The Outsiders Rewritten: Darry's Story
by theCurtisLittleSister
Summary: The title says it all. Dialogue and events based off the book. Written for NaNoWriMo 2016. I love Darry Curtis! First Outsiders FanFic. Stay gold, do it for Johnny! -Rated T for swearing
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

The second Sodapop and I walked through the front door Friday evening, I just flung myself down in Dad's old armchair beside the window and closed my eyes without bothering to take off my coat, or my work boots, or even my toolbelt. My mind was in overdrive as I sat there with my chin in my hand, watching the street through the open curtains. _Supper has to be made, I gotta sort out this month's bills, I gotta be at work by eight..._ I could hear Soda thumping around on the front porch with his best buddy Steve, and though I had an awful headache, I couldn't find the energy to holler for them to shut up like I usually do.

Then I saw something that made my mind (and heart) completely stop: a red Corvair was stopped beside the lot at the end of our street and what looked like a group of Socs was crowded over something lying on the sidewalk.

"Soda...?" I called through the screen door. I knew he and Steve had seen that Corvair, they had gone quiet and were staring down the street too. I hung my toolbelt up beside Soda's DX jacket and stepped out to get a better look when Soda suddenly shouted, "Ponyboy!" and barreled down off the porch with Steve close on his heels, and that's when I heard the voice of my baby brother screaming, "Darry! Soda! Help!" and then I launched myself off the porch after them.

Ponyboy had taken some blows by the time the three of us reached the lot. He was curled on his side and the side of his head was bloody. I grabbed the nearest Soc by the shoulder, yanked him around, and punched him hard in the face. Soda had tackled another Soc around the waist and was screaming at Ponyboy to get up and run. The Socs were beating it for the Corvair, one of them holding a switchblade spotted with red, and I knew he was the one that had tried to cut up my baby brother, but he was too far for me to reach. I could see the rest of our gang running in from the opposite direction, yelling and swearing, but I was focused on making sure Pony was okay. I hauled him roughly to his feet and shook him. "Are you alright, Ponyboy?"

He sounded impatient when he said, "I'm okay... Quit shaking me, Darry, I'm okay."

I released him and mumbled, "I'm sorry," and stepped away, my fists in my pockets. "They didn't hurt you too bad, did they?"

He was sitting down again, rubbing the side of his face. "I'm okay." He looked ready to bawl, though, and he was hunched over a little and his hands were shaking.

Sodapop was there at that moment, kneeling down beside Ponyboy and looking concerned as he said, "You got cut up a little, huh, Ponyboy?" and tugged a handkerchief from his back pocket. I stood over them as Soda began carefully cleaning the side of Pony's head. Pony just stared at him with the same blank look he had whenever we interrupted him while he had his nose in a book. "I did?

"You're bleedin' like a stuck pig."

Pony looked startled as he said, "I am?"

"Look!" Soda cried, showing Pony the handkerchief, which was now soaked with blood in the center where Soda had held it against his head. "Did they pull a blade on you?"

"Yeah." Pony was looking up at Soda as he spoke, but now he quickly dropped his head down and started crying a bit. His face was white and he was shaking hard. I felt awful as I watched him, but I didn't say anything, because Sodapop had already touched his shoulder and was saying in a soft voice, "Easy, Ponyboy. They ain't gonna hurt you no more."

I just stood there watching the two of them as the shouts and swears of our gang echoed around the lot. _Soda's just so good at all this. He's just like Dad was. I'm Ponyboy's older brother too. I should be able to comfort him too._

I saw Steve and Dallas scooping up rocks off the side of the road and chucking them at the Socs and their car. Two-Bit was screaming every dirty word he could think of. The Socs were swearing just as loud as our gang and were yelling "Grease!" as they piled into the Corvair and peeled out of the lot. Even little Johnny had a big triumphant grin on his face.

"... I'm just a little spooked, that's all," Ponyboy was saying to Soda. He took a breath and his tears stopped. _I can't remember the last time I saw Pony cry._ Soda grinned softly and rubbed Pony's hair affectionately and said, "You're an okay kid, Pony."

Pony grinned back. "You're crazy, Soda, out of your mind."

"You're both nuts," I said, annoyed. I think it was because I was a little hurt that Pony went to Soda for comfort and not to me. I could understand why, though. Soda was the one who offered Ponyboy comfort, he was the first one to say "It's okay" or to throw an arm across Pony's shoulders. He was the one who shared a bed with Pony and who was the first one awake when Pony was having that nightmare. Yet it still bugged me something awful and I never told anyone about it.

Soda glanced up at me with a cocked eyebrow and said, "It seems to run in this family."

I had to grin at him. Sodapop loved teasing me. He was the one who started everybody calling me "Superman," and when I was still in high school he never missed a chance to rib me about the dates I went on or the parties I had been invited to. It was another way he was so much like Dad had been.

The gang had come running back to us and were flopped down on the grass beside the road, breathing hard and looking roughed-up, but grinning all the same. Dallas pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his brown leather jacket.

"Didya catch 'em?" Pony asked.

"Nup, they got away this time, the dirty…" came Two-Bit's cheerful answer, and he went on to call the Socs every name he could think up.

"The kid's okay?" somebody asked as Dallas handed lit cigarettes around.

"I'm okay," Pony replied as he took a cigarette. His face was a normal color again and he had quit shaking. I knew that cigarette was calming him down some. "I didn't know you were out of the cooler yet, Dally."

"Good behavior. Got off early."

Two-Bit was watching Ponyboy. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid."

Pony's hand went to the side of his face. He sure did have a nasty purple bruise forming on his cheek. "Really?"

"Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough," Two-Bit added with a nod.

I rolled my eyes. Ponyboy wouldn't have had that bruise or that cut in the first place if he could just use his head. _He could've called me at work and I could've come to pick him up, or Two-Bit could've dropped by and brought him to our house…_ It makes me madder than heck when Pony does stuff like this because ever since Mom and Dad died, I'm responsible for him and Sodapop, and I can't mess up or the state will take my brothers away from me and put them in a boys' home. I can't quit worrying about the two of them, especially Pony, because he's the baby and he's still in school and all. _But he could at least do his part and use his head and keep out of messes like this. He knows darn well he shouldn't be walking the streets by himself with the Socs around. And he knows what'll happen if the state hears about something like this!_

Steve (of all people) voiced my thoughts aloud as he knocked the ashes off the end of his cigarette into Pony's lap. "What were you doin', walkin' by your lonesome?"

Pony scowled over at Steve. He and Steve had never been the greatest of friends. "I was comin' home from the movies, I didn't think…"

"You don't ever think, not at home or anywhere when it counts." I let all my frustration and annoyance with Pony out. "You must think at school, with all those good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub." I stopped and sighed and shook my head. "And if you did have to go by yourself, you should have carried a blade."

Ponyboy was staring at the ground. The gang was used to me lecturing my baby brother and they weren't really paying any attention. But Sodapop was glaring up at me. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It ain't his fault he likes to go to the movies, and it ain't his fault the Socs like to jump us, and if he had been carrying a blade it would have been a good excuse to cut him to ribbons," he burst out. He always is sticking up for Pony.

"When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid brother, I'll ask you- _kid_ _brother_ ," I huffed, but I laid off. I don't like lecturing Ponyboy. It felt like every time I was on to him about something we grew another world apart.

I waited as the gang made plans for the following night. Soda and Steve were taking their girls out to a game, Two-Bit was aiming to go get drunk like he usually did on a Saturday night, and Dally was heading over to the Nightly Double with Johnny and Pony. I sighed as I listened to them. I was working Saturday night at the warehouse as usual. _And I gotta take care of the groceries and the bills too…_

Later on that evening Sodapop wandered into my bedroom as I lay on the bed making a grocery list. I was on my stomach again because of another pulled muscle, this time smack in the middle of my back. _I really gotta stop tryin' to take two bundles of roofing up the ladder,_ I thought as I tried to sit up and pain raced up my spine. "What is it, Soda?"

He was leaning in the door with a knowing look on his face. "How about a backrub, Superman?"

I heaved a sigh and glanced down at my unfinished grocery list. "I'm kinda busy right now, Soda. Maybe some other time."

Soda came and sat down on the edge of the bed and placed his hands along my back. "Darry. You're obviously hurting. I ain't gonna take 'no' for an answer. Now lie down and shut up."

I sighed again and rolled my eyes but did what I was told. For a few minutes we didn't talk as Soda's strong hands worked out all the pain in my back and then moved up to my neck and shoulders. Then he asked softly, "There anything you wanna talk about?"

I just buried my head in my pillow and mumbled, "Rub harder, Soda, you're gonna put me to sleep."

"Darry…"

" _What,_ Soda?" I lifted my head to look back at him. He had that knowing look on his face again. It was his turn now to sigh.

"You can tell me anything, Darry, you know that, right? It's just me in here." His brown eyes, another thing he had got from Dad, could see right through me sometimes. I couldn't play "Superman" around him all the time and fool him like I could with Ponyboy and the gang. "Just… just tell me what's bugging you, will ya, please?"

I gently pushed his hands off of me and rolled on my side to stare up at him. "It's Ponyboy. I don't know what on Earth's the matter with that kid, never usin' his head. If we hadn't gotten to him in time who knows what them Socs could've done to him. They had a blade, Soda…" I couldn't let myself picture what could have happened to our baby brother, and my voice trailed off and we sat quietly again. Soda was glaring at the floor.

"Well, we're lucky we got there in time then, huh?" he asked quietly. "Look Darry, I don't like thinking about it any more than you do, but there ain't no point in thinking about what _could_ have happened to Ponyboy. He'll just think we're worried over him and that we can't trust him on his own, like we're babyin' him or something."

"I _am_ worried over him," I muttered, rolling back over on my stomach with a big sigh. "Thanks for the backrub, Soda, but I think I'm gonna get some sleep now. 'Night."

He sighed too. "'Night, Superman." I heard him get up from the bed and turn out the light and cross the hall to the room he shared with Pony, hollering for Pony to get in bed and turn out their light. I lay there in the dark, my cheek tucked against the pillow, hearing the low whispering coming from Soda and Pony across the hall and feeling more hurt and worried and confused with each passing minute, until it finally grew quiet and my back relaxed and I fell asleep.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I was pacing around our living room with a newspaper in one hand and my free hand curled tight into a fist. Sodapop was watching me wear a hole in the floor from the sofa. "Darry, I'm sure Ponyboy's okay, wherever he's at… Dally knows not to leave him… and even if he did, he'd still be with Johnny…"

"He was supposed to be in an hour ago!" I practically screamed as I yanked the curtains back again and peered up and down the street outside. No Ponyboy. "And Johnny ain't much older than Pony is, Soda, you remember when those Socs got hold of Johnny in the lot?" _Don't think about that, don't think about that._ "Remember, Soda? What if Dally got drunk and took off and left 'em over on the other side of town?" _Don't think like that, don't think like that._

Soda was shaking his head. "Dallas Winston's a lot of things, Darry, but he ain't dumb. He knows what you'd do to him if he went out with Pony and Johnny and got drunk and then left 'em. Pony's probably just lost track of the time, you know how he is, he's probably comin' home right now. Just give him some more time, okay?"

He was begging me now. I scowled and dropped into the armchair and unfolded the newspaper again, leaving the curtains open and glancing up every few minutes for a sign of Pony and Johnny coming down the street. I checked my watch each time. By two I was pacing again. If Sodapop had been up he probably would have told me to sit down and give Pony some more time, but he was flat on his back on the sofa sleeping. I was getting pretty tired myself, but my worry over Ponyboy and my growing anger with him kept me up.

And then there was the sound of steps on the porch and the screen door opened and there Pony was, shivering from the cold outside and chewing on one fingernail.

"Where the heck have you been? Do you know what time it is?" I was madder than I could ever remember being with him. It didn't help when he just shook his head and stood there staring at me.

"Well, it's two in the morning, kiddo. Another hour and I would have had the police out after you." I was all but screaming at Pony now. "Where were you, Ponyboy? Where in the almighty universe were you?"

"I… I went to sleep in the lot-"

"You what?" Now I was screaming. It woke Sodapop up, and he asked, "Hey Ponyboy, where ya been?" and it drove me nuts the way he was talking, like he wasn't at all mad about our baby brother staying out two hours past his curfew, like he hadn't been worried sick over Pony and where he was at and if he was okay.

Pony didn't look once at Soda. His eyes were on me, and his voice was rising in desperation as he said, "I didn't mean to… I was talking to Johnny and we both dropped off-"

I exploded when I heard those words: _I didn't mean to._ "I reckon it never occurred to you that your brothers might be worrying their heads off and afraid to call the police because something like that could get you two thrown in a boys' home so quick it'd make your head spin." _I thought he'd understood that._ "And you were asleep in the lot? Ponyboy, what on Earth is the matter with you? Can't you use your head? You haven't even got a coat on."

Now Ponyboy looked ready to cry. "I said I didn't mean to-"

That did it. "I didn't mean to! I didn't think! I forgot! That's all I hear out of you!" I screamed at him. "Can't you think of anything?"

Soda had been watching the two of us from the sofa, but now he spoke up, his eyes still darting between me and Pony. "Darry…"

I spun to face him and screamed, "You keep your trap shut! I'm sick and tired of hearin' you stick up for him!"

Now Pony exploded at me, something he had never done before, not even when Mom and Dad had been alive. "You don't yell at him!" he screamed, and without thinking twice, I turned with my hand raised and smacked him across the face, knocking him into the screen door.

The room went completely quiet except for the sounds of our heavy breathing and the ceiling fan above our heads. Sodapop's eyes were huge and his mouth was hanging open. Ponyboy was staring at me with a hurt and bewildered expression. I knew why: no one in our family had ever hit him. No one in our family had ever hit any of us. My eyes dropped to the palm of my hand, which was still slightly raised in front of me and turning bright red, and then grew huge as I looked back at my baby brother. "Ponyboy-"

He took off running, yanking the screen door open, hurtling off the porch and through the gate, and tearing up the street. "Pony, I didn't mean to!" I was screaming, but he was gone into the night, probably at the end of the street by then, and he wasn't coming back.

Sodapop had jumped off the sofa and was standing at my shoulder, his eyes still huge and his mouth still hanging open. We stood there at the door, which was still wide open, staring up the street and silently begging for Ponyboy to come back, but he didn't, not after ten minutes, not after twenty. Soda put a hand on my shoulder and I heard him whisper very, very softly and shakily, "You really hit him, huh, Darry?"

I swallowed hard and nodded the tiniest bit. "Yeah, Soda. I really hit him…"

Ponyboy didn't come home that night- or rather, that morning. Soda and I left the porch light on and the living room light too, and we both went back to our rooms but I knew Soda wasn't sleeping, and neither was I. I was sitting up in the bed, staring at the ceiling, hearing Soda bawling across the hall and wishing that I could go over to his room and comfort him like he always had done with Pony, but I knew it was the last thing he would want. I wouldn't have been able to do much anyways. I had never been good at the comforting stuff.

Around three-thirty I knew I needed to get some sleep. I didn't have work or anything on Sundays but I hadn't slept at all since the night Pony was jumped, and I was real tired. Soda had gone quiet and when I checked on him he was out, his arm thrown across Pony's side of their bed as usual, and the sight of it made me want to break down.

I went back into my room and collapsed on the bed again, rolling on my side to face the wall. I kept hoping to hear the sound of someone on the porch, the sound of the screen door opening and closing, the sound of someone coming down the hall, but it never came. Eventually my eyes shut and I fell into a restless, guilt-ridden sleep.

When I next woke up, someone had pulled my sheets up over me and closed the door to my room. I looked at the clock beside my bed: it was one-thirty in the afternoon. I could hear someone in the kitchen rattling dishes and talking in a low voice. _Ponyboy…?_

I kicked back my sheets and opened my door and poked my head out into the hall. "Sodapop?" I called in the direction of the kitchen, and the sounds of dishes and talking stopped quickly.

"Darry?" Soda called back in a tired, dejected voice. "You awake?"

I came into the kitchen to find him washing last night's dishes and Steve sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of chocolate cake. Steve looked wary as he muttered, "Hey Superman," around a mouthful of food.

"I ain't gonna hit you," I sighed, snatching some cake from his plate and sitting down in an empty chair. Looking to Soda, I asked, "Did Pony… did he… did he come home…?"

Soda shook his head and bit his lip, turning back to the dishes in the sink. He was about ready to start bawling again, I could tell. Steve glared at me and got up, sticking his plate in the sink and murmuring to Soda, "I'll see ya later, buddy," before slamming the screen door on his way out. I rolled my eyes but said nothing, for Soda's sake. Steve was back in five seconds, though, the screen door slamming harder as he bolted into the kitchen again.

"The fuzz are here!" he announced, just as there came a knock from the porch. I shot him a dirty look and mouthed "Stay here" to the two of them before heading into the living room. Sure enough, there were two of the fuzz standing on our porch, one with a notepad and a pen, the other with a pair of handcuffs. I was alarmed. _What is going on here?_

"Curtis residence?" the one with the notepad and the pen asked. "Are you Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Jr., sir?"

I nodded, just as wary as Steve had been back in the kitchen. "Yessir…"

"Your brothers are Sodapop Patrick Curtis and Ponyboy Michael Curtis?" he continued, his pen scribbling across his notepad.

"Yessir."

"When was the last time you saw Ponyboy and… and a Johnny Cade kid?"

"Johnny?" came Soda's voice from behind me. He and Steve had ignored me and followed me to the door, both of them looking extremely confused at the mention of Johnny's name. "What d'ya want with Johnny?"

"Mr. Curtis…" the cop with the handcuffs cleared his throat. "When was the last time you saw Ponyboy and Johnny?"

"I don't- the last time I saw Johnny was about five-thirty yesterday, I guess. The last time I saw Ponyboy was- was early this morning, about- about two."

The cop with the handcuffs was looking at me like he didn't believe me. The cop with the notepad was still scribbling something. Soda and Steve weren't looking confused anymore, just fearful. I stepped back to let the cops into the house. They didn't sit.

"Is something… is something the matter with Pony and Johnny?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm, not only for Steve's and Soda's sake, but for my own. _We have no idea where they're at. They could be hurt: the Socs could have got hold of them…_

"Well, the two of them are the prime suspects dealing with the murder of Robert Sheldon in the park last night, around three in the morning. Sheldon's friends described your brother and the Cade kid exactly, and Mr. Cade's switchblade was left at the scene of the crime. And since you haven't seen your brother since last night- around two, you said -it all makes perfect sense."

"Murder?" Soda looked as though he were about to start screaming. Steve stood beside him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady, but his eyes were huge and scared and confused. Soda was glaring at the cops through the shock in his own eyes, and he asked harshly in a tone completely unlike him, "How can you be sure that a little fourteen-year-old kid- our baby brother -could just go and murder a Soc? Ponyboy's scared to death of Socs…" His voice trailed off as he realized that the fuzz had no idea what he meant by the word "Socs." The fuzz don't understand "Socs" but they sure as heck understand "Greasers."

Steve's eyes hardened. "Are you takin' us to jail?"

My mind was racing as I watched him and Soda staring down the fuzz. _They can't take us to jail, they won't take us to jail. We had nothing to do with- to do with the murder. Oh, Ponyboy, Johnny, murder? How could- how could Pony and Johnny do something like this? Johnny wouldn't ever hurt someone, and Pony… Soda's right, Pony's scared to death of Socs._ It was me that answered Steve. "No Steve. We're not going anywhere." I turned to the fuzz, practically begging them as I said, "Have you heard anything from anyone as to where my brother and Johnny might be now?"

The cop with the handcuffs was looking regretful at not being able to use them. The cop with the notepad shook his head. "We don't know where the two of them are at. We've arrested a Dallas Winston and questioned him as to where Ponyboy and Johnny might be, but he couldn't give us a straight answer. He said he believed they were headed for Texas, so we've sent a patrol out that way to try and locate them."

 _Great, now they've arrested Dally?_ I nodded slowly. "Is Dally- I mean Dallas -going to be released any time soon?"

"We're releasing him tomorrow. It's evident that he has no clear idea as to where the two boys might be headed, but we're still going to try and question him again tonight, to be sure. Are you all friends of Mr. Winston?"

"Yeah," the three of us chorused. Sodapop's voice sounded weak and unsteady, Steve's voice was still hard and distrusting. The cop with the notepad wrote something down- probably taking note that we were friends of old Dally Winston. Then he and the other cop headed towards the door. I followed them out onto the porch. "If you hear anything about Ponyboy and Johnny… anything… you'll be sure to contact us, right?" My voice broke as I said my brother's name.

The fuzz nodded as they got into their car. "If we hear anything, you'll know." The cop with the handcuffs started the car and then leaned out of the window to say something else. I leapt off the porch and jogged over to hear him over the sound of the car's engine. "If you find out anything more about the incident in the park last night, you call us straightaway, son, you hear?"

"Yessir. Thanks- thanks for coming out today," I said with a shaky nod, and they left.

It was awfully quiet as I stood in the yard alone, the conversation with the fuzz swirling around in my head. I could hear Sodapop in the house bawling again, and Steve talking in a low voice to him, though he sounded fearful too. I jumped back onto the porch and went in the house, the screen door slamming shut behind me, but instead of going over to Soda like I ought to have done, I just stood there in the living room watching him and Steve. Steve was glaring at me again.

"Aren't you even gonna say something, Superman?" he spat. "This is your brother we're talking about! This is Johnny we're talking about! Aren't you gonna-"

"Randle." I was shaking with rage and grief and fear. My voice was unsteady too. "If you open your mouth again, the next thing coming out of it is gonna be your teeth." I bolted down the hall, ignoring Soda's bawling and Steve's swearing and ranting, and slammed my bedroom door, throwing myself facedown on the bed and pulling my sheets up over my head. Even "Superman" has a breaking point.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

I didn't go to work on Monday morning. This was partly because I slept in too late, partly because Sodapop had decided not to go to work either, and partly because we were both wanting to stay home in case Ponyboy made his way home.

I rolled out of bed around ten in the morning and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee like I did every morning, only to find that Soda was already awake and coffee was already made and breakfast had already been cooked and the dishes had already been washed. _This_ was completely unlike Sodapop. I was usually the first one awake to make coffee and cook breakfast, and then when Soda and Pony finally were up they were the ones to clean up the kitchen while I got ready for work. But on the table was my coffee mug and a plate of eggs and ham, and the sink was empty of dishes. Soda was sitting on the sofa with a slice of chocolate cake, and Two-Bit was with him, flipping through the channels on the television, looking for morning cartoons.

"Morning," I said quietly, sitting at my place at the table and pulling my coffee toward me. I wasn't hungry for the eggs and ham. I hadn't eaten since Saturday but I didn't care.

"Morning," Soda and Two-Bit mumbled without looking away from the television. I sighed and sipped my coffee, only to find it was stone-cold. I spat it back into the mug and went to dump it in the sink.

"Soda, when'd you make this coffee?" I hollered as I rinsed the mug out and turned it upside down on the side of the sink. I could hear Two-Bit's cartoons and low voices out in the living room, and I wondered if Soda had filled Two-Bit in on the events of the past couple days.

"This morning. Why?" Soda hollered back, and I sighed with relief that he was speaking to me.

"Ah, forget it. No reason." I poured a glass of chocolate milk instead and sat back down at the kitchen table. Sodapop had come into the kitchen and was watching me.

"I'm sorry, Darry. I tried…" he muttered, lowering his head, and when he looked back up at me his brown eyes were full of tears.

"Soda!" I was alarmed. I set down my glass of milk and got up, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to look at me. "Soda, what's the matter? I ain't mad about the coffee… come on, little buddy, what's the matter?"

 _He's not upset about the coffee. He's upset about Ponyboy._ Two-Bit came into the kitchen and the look on his face told me he knew everything that had happened since Saturday night. I motioned for him to leave and he did without a word, snatching the plate of eggs and ham as he went. "Soda," I murmured, "come on. We need to talk." I led him through the living room and out onto the porch, making him sit down on the steps with me. He was bawling quietly by now, and we sat there as I let him cry himself out. When he finally looked back up at me he muttered, "I'll be fine in a second… I'm sorry, Darry, just give me a second…"

"Little buddy, you have nothing to be sorry for." I swallowed hard and continued, "Nothing. I should be the one who's sorry. I- I drove Ponyboy away that night. I was too hard on him. You- you tried to stop me, and I- I hit him, Soda. I hit our baby brother…" I trailed off as my voice broke, but I refused to cry. I don't cry. I don't even think I _can_ cry. I'd been so used to playing "Superman" for my brothers and the gang, even when I wasn't fooling anybody, because playing "Superman" didn't just reassure everybody else, it also reassured _me_. When Mom and Dad were killed in that auto wreck I hadn't cried, not when we first heard the news, not at the funeral, and I think that's when the whole "Superman" act first started. It was when I first really grew up, I think, even if it was tough to do, even if I resented it with everything I was made of.

 _Now Sodapop needs me. I have to be "Superman" now. Now is no different. But- but it is different. I need somebody now as much as somebody needs me. I actually need somebody now._ The thought scared me.

Sodapop had started bawling again. "Do you… do you think he's gonna come home, Darry? He… he can't come home right away, I mean… he and Johnny are really in for it, what with… what with…" He didn't finish, he just cried and cried, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving and his hands shaking hard as they covered his eyes.

"Soda. Listen to me," I said, as firmly and as softly as I could manage, putting a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head to look at me and I plunged in quickly. "Ponyboy'll come home. I know he will. Him and Johnny both, they're both gonna come home. They can't stay gone forever. They're gonna have to come home and- and face what they've done, but… either way, whether they get in trouble or not, they're gonna come on home soon. Soon, little buddy, I promise you." I paused, keeping my hand on his shoulder, and then very slowly I put my whole arm around him, and his back stiffened in shock for a second, and then he relaxed into my side. I let him continue bawling into my shoulder until he was done, and I helped him to his feet and we went back inside to join Two-Bit in front of the television.

The next morning I knew I had to go back to work, so I went to bed early Monday night and told Sodapop to do the same. He protested, but I told him that bumming around the house wasn't going to bring Pony and Johnny back home, and besides, we had bills and rent to keep up with.

I knew how he was feeling. I wasn't thrilled at dragging through work knowing that Ponyboy was somewhere on the run, miles away, cold and confused and no doubt scared out of his mind, maybe hungry, too. I was equally worried about Johnny too: the whole gang was. We all knew Johnny's parents weren't missing him or worrying over him or anything, they never were, so we did the missing and the worrying over him instead, to make it up. We were all family to Johnny.

Nobody, not me or Soda or Steve or Two-Bit, had seen or heard from Dallas since Saturday. If the fuzz had stuck to their word, Dally would've been released from jail yesterday. But he hadn't come around our house, or Steve's or Two-Bit's, and we had talked to Tim Shepard and his gang at the vacant lot Monday night, and they hadn't seen or heard from Dally either. That was real weird: Dally and Tim were good buddies and were hardly ever separated, unless they were hacked off at each other or one of them was on the run from the fuzz. I was starting to get the idea that Dallas knew something about where Ponyboy and Johnny were at, but I didn't tell Sodapop, or he and Steve would've gone out hunting him and things would have ended up bad. Everybody in the gang knew not to mess with old Dallas Winston, and if he had decided to keep his trap shut and stay away from everybody, then he had made up his mind and there was no point in trying to change it. He would've knocked Soda and Steve flat without a moment's thought if they had gone out after him.

The fuzz still hadn't called with information on Ponyboy and Johnny, and seeing as we still had no information on the murder in the park, I hadn't called them either. When we had met up with Tim Shepard and his gang Monday night, they had heard all about it, of course, and Sodapop had gone around asking everybody the details, with no luck. All they knew was that a Soc had been stabbed and that there was going to be even more bad blood between the East and West sides for a long time. It was clearly driving Soda mad, but it was killing me. I didn't let on to anybody, though. Each time I thought about Ponyboy or felt like bawling I would think: " _Superman"_ and it would all go away, at least for the time being.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

By Thursday afternoon there was still no word on Ponyboy and Johnny. I could tell Sodapop and Steve and Two-Bit were about ready to give up hope that the fuzz were going to call us with some good news. But I just couldn't allow myself to give up as they were ready to do: I kept thinking " _Superman, you gotta play "Superman."_

I had gone into Pony's and Soda's room Wednesday night to find Soda facedown on the bed, bawling his eyes out into Pony's pillow, his arm thrown across Pony's side of the bed again. I didn't go to comfort him as I had on Monday. I just stood there leaning in the doorway, feeling the urge to cry but fighting it as hard as I could. I had been ready to head back across the hall to my own room again when Soda had rolled over and called softly, "Darry…?"

I had gone and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. "What is it, little buddy?"

The tears had come harder. "Darry, I- I'm losing everybody I c-care about. And it ain't fair… everybody, Darry…"

I hadn't been able to understand what he was carrying on about, he was bawling so hard. I had just sat there struck dumb, stroking his hair as he bawled into my lap and said, "I'm losing them, Darry, I'm losing them all…" When he had finally calmed down enough to talk I asked in a soft voice, "What're you talkin' about, Sodapop? Who're you losing…?"

He had raised his head up off my lap and cried out, "Everybody, Darry, everybody! Mom and Dad! Ponyboy! Sandy-" His voice had gone funny and he just dropped back down into my lap. The tears were coming again, faster this time.

Sandy had been Sodapop's girl, the one he had taken to that football game the night Ponyboy ran out. He had loved Sandy to death. So had the rest of us, to be honest: she wasn't like any of the other greasy girls in our neighborhood, the loud, rude, fake girls that smoked and got drunk and let themselves get… well, you know. But Sandy hadn't been like that, not at all.

"Sodapop. What happened to Sandy? How- how did you _lose_ her…?"

Soda raised his head again and screamed, "She left! She left, she went to Florida, she went to live with her grandmother… was it something I did, Darry? Was it something I did to her? She said she didn't… she said she didn't _want_ me anymore… I told her… I _told_ her I didn't care, but she said- she said she had to go… that she didn't want me…!"

So Sandy had left him to go to Florida. He had told me the whole story Wednesday night, after I had got him to calm down enough to talk to me. Sandy had gotten pregnant, and Sodapop wasn't the father. Her parents had decided to send her to Florida to live with her grandmother after they'd found out, but Soda had begged her to stay with him, telling her he didn't care that she was pregnant with someone else's kid, but she had gone anyways.

 _He must have really loved her, not to care about her being pregnant with some other guy's kid._ It had clearly been killing him, and to make things even worse, he had been keeping the whole thing to himself the entire time since he'd found out and Sandy had left for Florida. I hadn't known what to say or do about any of it, so I had just sat there on the bed, cradling Soda's head in my lap and letting him bawl and bawl until he'd gone to sleep.

After I'd covered Soda up and turned out the light and left the room, I had walked slowly out to the porch and sat down on the steps, staring out at the street and thinking hard. There had been a lot on my mind. But what had been bugging me the most was Sodapop's breakdown. Not so much that he had lost his girl- it had occurred to me that that had been the first time Sodapop had ever completely confided in me like that. I didn't know if he had ever talked to Ponyboy like that before, but it would have made total sense to me: Sodapop and Ponyboy were much more tight then me and Ponyboy would ever be. _But how could he have ever had the chance, with me and Pony fightin' all the time?_ I had never really stopped to think about how much Ponyboy and I fought until that Wednesday night. _He'd probably had to sit there listenin' to Pony going on about me…_ I thought back to Friday night, when Soda had been in my room giving me a backrub. He'd asked me if there'd been anything I'd wanted to talk to him about. _When was the last time anybody had asked him that?_

I had suddenly felt sick, thinking about all of that. I got up off the steps and went in the house to lay down. I could still hear Sodapop across the hall, but I didn't go back in to see him. "Superman" had officially quit for the night.

That was Wednesday night. Thursday afternoon was wrung dry of feeling. Sodapop and Steve were down at the DX working. Soda had left the house that morning with the same hollowed, hopeless look in his brown eyes that he had left with every morning and had come home with each night. Steve looked the same way. Even Two-Bit had lost the cheerful grin he normally had and he had quit cracking jokes when he walked into our house. And we still hadn't seen or heard from Dallas.

I hadn't told Sodapop or any of the others, but I was only working half-days since Ponyboy had gone. I just didn't have the energy to go all day long, knowing that my baby brother and little Johnny were somewhere far away from home, on the run from the law, cold and tired and scared, maybe even hurt. All because of me. So I had quit working full days, and at lunch hour, I headed on home. I didn't tell Sodapop because I knew he would be mad at me for making _him_ still go to work: he wanted to be home in case Pony and Johnny made it back just as much as the rest of us. I didn't tell Steve or Two-Bit either: they'd think I was going soft. " _Superman." Just play "Superman."_ I couldn't tell if the boys were fooled by my "Superman" act these days anymore. We all seemed to be struggling with the whole thing by ourselves.

I'd come home Thursday afternoon at the lunch hour like I'd been doing since Tuesday, kicking off my work boots and shrugging out of my coat and throwing my toolbelt on the armchair. I had just stepped into the kitchen to get me some coffee and a piece of chocolate cake when I heard the screen door slam, followed by the sound of someone running hard toward the kitchen, and when I spun around I came face-to-face with Dally.

"We gotta go, Superman." He was talking fast, his eyes hard and his voice urgent. "Two-Bit's in trouble, some Socs got him at the lot, we gotta go help him, come on, come on!"

We bolted out the door and down off the porch toward the vacant lot. Dally was hollering something but I was running too fast and too hard to hear him. Two-Bit had a bloody nose and he was locked in with a Soc nearly twice his size, but he seemed to be holding his own well enough. Him and the Soc were blindly throwing punches at each other, and two other Socs came rushing in from the side to pull him aside. I launched forward and hauled one Soc back, throwing him to the ground and whirling to get hold of the other one, but Dally had already jumped on him and was slugging and kicking him so hard that he had the Soc screaming bloody murder. I yanked him roughly back and the Soc scrambled to his feet and took off running, the other two Socs hot on his heels. Two-Bit was lying flat on his back on the ground, his hands covering his face. Blood fell through his fingers.

Dally was breathing hard, a murderous look in his icy-colored eyes. We glanced at one another and crouched on our heels beside Two-Bit.

"Two-Bit. Hey Two-Bit, buddy, you okay?" I asked softly. I gently tried to pull his hands away from his face and was shocked and a little scared to see him in tears. "Two-Bit…?"

He rolled on his side to face away from Dally and me. He was talking fast through his tears in a low, hollow, desperate voice. "I can't d-do it no more, you guys, I can't, I just can't… first them damn Socs, then Ponyboy and Johnnycake are gone, they're wanted for murder… then them Socs… man, what did we ever _do_ to them? What did we ever do to them bastards, guys, what did we ever do? I can't… I can't take it no more…"

Dally's eyes hardened more. This was unfamiliar to somebody like him. Totally unfamiliar. Dally didn't understand how to feel. He didn't care about anybody or anything, and he didn't know how to feel, or even what feeling was, to be honest. Some greasers end up like that. All hoods are practically born like that. But Dally wasn't a hood. He was a greaser, not a hood, never a hood. Nobody in our gang could be called a hood. But then again, Dally was different from the rest of us. We all felt something. Dally felt nothing. And the way the rest of us felt, we had grown used to hiding it from everybody else, we had learned how to hide it from ourselves at times, too. That was why Ponyboy had never come to me, he had always gone to Sodapop, because I was better at shutting off my feelings than Soda. That was why we had never seen Steve or Two-Bit cry before until now. That was why we never saw Dally cry. And little Johnny, who had it the worst at home out of any of us, who never complained or griped or bawled about it all… we all knew the one thing Johnny wanted was a family, and no matter how hard we tried to give it to him, well, we all knew it bothered him something awful. Maybe he just never came to anybody about it because he thought he had to hide his feelings from us, because we all kept our feelings from each other. _This is why I have to play "Superman" around the gang. No. I don't have to. I choose to._

It was making me sick again, thinking of all this. Before Ponyboy had gone I had never thought about anything like this. Two-Bit had never broken down like this. Dally had never avoided the gang like he had been doing the past few days. Sodapop and Steve had never gone around with those hollowed and hopeless looks in their eyes like this. But then again, we had never been missing two of our gang for so long like this.

Two-Bit slowly sat up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He drew in a long, shuddering breath and mumbled, "I'm sorry, ya'll… I don't know what's the matter with me, swear to God…"

I sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "S'okay, Two-Bit. Let's go, come on to our house for lunch or somethin'..." I helped to pull him to his feet, him clutching my forearm, and turned to Dallas. "You comin' too?"

He shook his head. "I'll be around later. Think I'm gonna go meet up with old Shepard over at the tracks for a while. Hey, I didn't tell ya'll, there's gonna be a rumble Sunday night here in the lot. Greasers against Socs, seven o'clock. We win and them damn Socs are gonna leave us alone for good. They win and they're gonna keep right on. Ya'll gonna show or what?"

I looked at Two-Bit. He was nodding slowly, pinching his still-bleeding nose, his eyes practically screwed shut from the pain. Dally turned to me then. "Superman? You comin' too?"

I shrugged. I really had no choice: if one person went we all went. "Yeah."

Dally looked satisfied and turned away. "Well, see ya'll later." He had just started to cross the street when my suspicion that he knew something about Ponyboy and Johnny flashed through my mind. "Hey Dally!"

He half-turned in the middle of the road as I called his name. "You know somethin' about Pony and Johnny? Like where they might be right now? About what happened to that Soc in the park?"

Something flashed across his hard, cold blue eyes, and then disappeared as quick as it had come. "I don't know any more than you do, Superman."

His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched and his whole body slouched like the hood I sometimes thought him to be. _He's lying. He's lying. I don't believe him._ His eyes wouldn't meet mine. Two-Bit's eyes were narrowed as he watched Dally and me stare each other down.

"Dallas Winston, this is my baby brother we're talking about. This is Johnny Cade we're talking about. Don't tell me you don't know any more than we do, you hear me?" I snapped. "Now tell me what you know, or so help me-"

"They ain't headed for Texas. That's all I'm sayin', Darry, now just shut up and drop it." Dally swore at me and then muttered as he turned away, "Man, now I see why Pony ran off, with you always on his back like that-"

I was stunned beyond belief but I threw myself on him anyways. I hit him hard across the face and was ready to kick him to his knees when Two-Bit grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me back up onto the sidewalk away from Dallas. "Cool it, Darry," he warned in a low voice, and then he turned to Dally and said quietly, "You'd better get outta here."

Dally wasn't looking the least bit sorry. I stared hard into his selfish, cold eyes and spat, "Get lost, hood," and he swore again and took off down the street, leaving me and Two-Bit on the corner catching our breath and feeling more hopeless than ever.

Sodapop was furious about something when I dropped by at the DX late that afternoon to pick up him and Steve. He had a navy sweatshirt slung over his shoulder and a scowl on his face as he got in the front of the truck. Steve looked mad too as he climbed in back.

"What's got you two messed up?" I asked in a weary voice as I eased the truck back out into the road. The blow-up with Dallas was still in my head. Two-Bit had begged me not to tell Soda and Steve about his getting jumped and my fight with Dally, because it would only worry them more and probably get them angry at Dally, which was truthfully just fine with me, but I did it for Two-Bit. He was already in pretty bad shape- just like the rest of us -and the gang didn't need to fall apart any more than it already was.

"Dally! It's Dally!" Soda snarled. "He knows _damn_ well where Pony and Johnny are at and he won't say one damn thing! We went over to Buck Merril's place at lunch 'cause I'd left my license and we found _this_ -" he tossed the sweatshirt in my lap "-back in one of his rooms, lyin' on the bed. So we hunted down Dally and asked him about it and he kept his trap shut and wouldn't tell us a thing!"

I glanced down at the sweatshirt in my lap and my heart jolted as I recognized it: the old navy one with the cut sleeves that Sodapop had given to Ponyboy.

"Watch the road, Superman!" Steve hollered from the back. I looked up and swore loudly, tossing the sweatshirt back at Soda and turning my attention to the road.

"Randle, you know you're welcome to walk home any day, right?"

Steve kicked the back of my seat. I chuckled a little and muttered, "That's right, just keep your trap shut."

We pulled up to the vacant lot at the end of our street and got out of the truck. Tim Shepard and several of his boys were standing around, smoking and talking. Two-Bit and Dallas were there too. As I walked toward Shepard Dallas glanced over at me, and I was immediately on my guard, ready for him to cuss me out or hit me, but he kind of grinned and mouthed "We cool?" and I nodded slightly and grinned back, checking over my shoulder swiftly to make sure Sodapop and Steve weren't watching. Two-Bit was watching, though, and despite everything that happened earlier that day he was grinning widely like his normal self. No matter what old Dally said or did to me, we were a gang, and that meant sticking with each other more than anything, especially now.

But Soda and Steve were glaring at Dally when I turned back around again. Soda's fists were balled up and Steve was swearing at Dally under his breath. Two-Bit's grin was gone. Tim Shepard was watching us with a half-confused, half-amused look on his face, and his boys were all looking as though they were ready for a fight. Dally looked the same way: his body was tensed up and he was glaring right back at Sodapop.

"Soda, Steve, watch it. Just calm yourselves down a minute," I said in a low voice, turning to face Dallas while keeping the two of them behind me in case they decided to jump on him. Dally would pound Soda and Steve into the ground. If they tried anything I would be able to bring them down easy. "Dally, I need you to tell me everything you know about Ponyboy and Johnny. Please. Sodapop and I gotta know where our baby brother's at, and we all want to know where Johnnycake's at too-"

Sodapop cut in. "And if they're someplace safe, and they ain't hurt, and they ain't cold and starved and-"

Soda's talking was cut off right then by the sound of a car pulling in beside the lot, behind our truck. It was a red Sting Ray: definitely some Soc's car. A girl with the longest and reddest hair I had ever seen slid out of the front and marched toward us, looking nervous but cool and all high-class like all other Socs. One of Tim Shepard's boys wolf-whistled, and Steve quickly ran a hand through his swirled and greasy hair, eyeing the girl with a cool, tough look on his face. The rest of us immediately stood rigid and tucked in our T-shirts and stuffed our hands in our back pockets.

The girl looked around, breathed in deeply, and asked, "Is there anybody here related to Ponyboy Curtis?"

Soda's eyes widened as he stepped toward her. I looked back at Two-Bit and Dallas. Two-Bit looked confused, and Dally had a look of shock mixed with anger in his eyes. _Had he seen this Soc before?_

I stepped up beside Soda and rested my elbow on his shoulder, glaring at the girl. "We're his brothers. What do you want?"

The girl swallowed hard and I swear I saw tears starting to form in her green eyes. "It- I just wanted to tell you guys- it's my fault that… it's my fault that Ponyboy and Johnny ran off. It's my fault that Bob got killed… it's all my fault…"

She was crying now. Sodapop was looking confused and impatient. "What do you mean, it's your fault Pony and Johnny are gone? Were you there when they killed that Soc?" he asked in a sharp voice. He had never talked that way to any girl, greaser or Soc.

"I mean, it's my fault what happened to Ponyboy and Johnny that night in the park. We met them at the Nightly Double on Saturday night, me and my friend Marcia. Our boyfriends- our boyfriends Bob and Randy had gotten drunk while we were out with them and we left them to go and see the movie ourselves, and we met Ponyboy and Johnny and we walked home with them and Two-Bit-" she gestured to Two-Bit, who had a cold, stormy look in his eyes as he listened to her tell the story "-and Bob and Randy found us and we had to go home with them, we didn't want to start any trouble, and they said they would fix your brother and Johnny for picking up their girls, and that's when they went and hunted them up in the park and- and they had tried to drown Ponyboy…"

My eyes went wide and Sodapop kind of gasped and leaned into me, trying to steady himself against my shoulder. The girl went on, tears still falling down her cheeks. "They had tried to drown him and they- they were going to beat up Johnny, and he pulled out a blade and stabbed Bob. He was trying to save Ponyboy's life. They wouldn't let go of Ponyboy and they would've killed him if- if Johnny hadn't done something… they were drunk, that was why they went after them, they were drunk and looking for a fight. They said so themselves."

She was quiet, staring at the ground and still crying. Steve was looking incredulous as he stared at her, struck dumb by her story. Two-Bit wasn't looking mad anymore, just sad and a little sick as he watched Soda and me for our reactions. Dally was the one who looked mad: he was furious as he glared hard at the Soc. And Tim Shepard and his gang were still looking ready to fight. The lot was dead quiet as we all stood there, waiting for the girl to go on, but that must have been it. Steve broke the silence. "So you were Bob's girl?"

She nodded. "My name's Cherry." She wasn't crying anymore. She just looked sad, and scared too. She kept eyeing Tim Shepard and his boys, and Dally too. But Dally wouldn't look at her anymore. He stepped up beside me and muttered in my ear, "Let's jump her. This whole thing is her fault, and her boyfriend's dead. She earned it-"

"No." It was Two-Bit, who had followed Dally and heard what he'd said. "She's been through enough already, we've all been through enough already. Jumping her ain't gonna do anything, it ain't gonna prove one damn thing. Just cool it, okay?"

Dally was looking furious again. He swore and started to say something else, but Two-Bit cut him off. "Cut it out, Dally," he warned, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set.

Two-Bit was a year and a half older than Dallas, but he was shorter and stockier than Dally was and we all knew that Dally could take him down easy in a fight. But he didn't make one move toward Two-Bit. I guessed that somewhere, underneath it all, Dallas Winston was sick and tired of all the fighting amongst ourselves too. He just swore again and turned back to Cherry, who had cleared her throat and was waiting for us to listen.

"I want to- I want to testify in court that Bob and Randy and the others were all drunk and looking to pick a fight when they were in the park that night. It's- I mean it's the least I can do after… after Ponyboy and Johnny… you know." She pushed her long red hair out of her face and wiped at her eyes. "There's a rumble Saturday night, right, Dallas?"

Dally nodded without saying a word. At the mention of the rumble, Shepard's boys all glanced around at one another, grinning eagerly and cracking their knuckles. Steve and Sodapop were looking eager too: they were probably wanting to get even with the Socs for jumping Ponyboy and for causing all this mess the past week. Two-Bit was looking cheerful, and when I caught his eye he pointed at his nose and grinned, and I knew he was looking to get even as much as Soda and Steve. As I watched all this I started to feel angry and spiteful too: just like Two-Bit had said, we hadn't done one thing to the Socs and they treated us worse than dirt. I thought of Johnny getting jumped in the lot a few months back, and Pony getting jumped just last Friday, and now because of the Socs, Pony and Johnny were on the run, wanted for murder. It was always the Socs who were looking to fight us, not the other way around, yet we always get the trouble, they always put it on us.

 _Maybe Cherry really can help us out of this mess,_ I thought as I stared at her, with her teary green eyes fixed on all of us. _No other Soc would do that for us. Maybe she's okay._

"...I can keep up with what's happening with Randy and the others before the rumble," Cherry was saying, "and let you all know how they want to fight and who they're going to bring and all of that, if you want-"

"You'd spy for us?" Soda asked incredulously, and I elbowed him in the side to shut him up. I didn't like that we were about to take charity from this Soc, but I had to do everything I could to keep the state from taking Pony and Soda away from me.

Cherry nodded and wiped at her eyes again. "Yes. This whole thing is my fault and I'm aiming to help as much as I can to make things right." Her voice shook a little, but she was standing straight and looking us right in the eyes. I nodded once, real slow. Sodapop followed my lead, then Steve and Two-Bit, and finally Dallas, though he still looked furious.

"Thanks, Cherry," I said to her, and she smiled through her crying and nodded. "But you'd better get goin'..." I jerked my thumb towards Tim Shepard and his gang, who were still looking tensed up for a fight and were eyeing her dangerously, and she took the hint and practically ran back to her car and drove off.

We were quiet as we watched that red Sting Ray leave the lot, and then Tim Shepard yawned and said, "Well… she was a good-lookin' little broad if I've ever seen one."

Dally laughed bitterly. "She ain't our type. Pure Soc. Shoulda seen her that night over at the Nightly Double. I don't believe she's gonna help us out. She's just tryin' to give us charity, make herself look good." He spat on the ground between his feet and added darkly, "We're better off lookin' at our own broads."

"She's all we've got to try and get Pony and Johnny outta this mess," I said with a sigh. "If there were some other way-"

"Dally, you still ain't told us where Pony and Johnny're at," Steve spoke up beside Soda. I glanced quickly at Dallas, but he didn't look mad about it, just tired and a little annoyed at being asked for another time.

"Alright, everybody listen. I can't tell you nothin' about it because one, I don't know much myself, and two, whatever I tell you could get Pony and Johnny in even more trouble."

"That's our baby brother!" Sodapop screamed. "What, you think we're gonna go call the fuzz and tell 'em we know where they're hid so they'll get hauled in?"

"No!" Dally snarled. "It's not because of that! Right now we don't know when this whole thing is gonna blow over, if it's even gonna blow over, and there ain't no sense in tellin' ya'll where Pony and Johnny're at if we ain't sure they're gonna be comin' home in the first place!"

Soda was close to tears now as he screamed, "You wouldn't get it, Dally, you ain't got any family! Ponyboy is our baby brother and he's on the run from the fuzz and he may not even be coming home! He's probably scared and confused and tired and cold and starved! Him and Johnny both! And you won't tell us where they're at or even if they're okay! You won't tell us anything you know…"

Steve put his arm across Soda's shoulders before I could get there. He glared at Dally but said nothing, which was probably a wise move, as Dally was looking ready to beat Soda down. I glared at him too and said to Soda, "Pony and Johnny ain't headed for Texas, little buddy. That's all Dally told me."

"Small comfort," Steve snapped. "Then where the hell are they?"

Dally rolled his eyes and said impatiently, "They ain't starved as far as I know. I gave 'em fifty bucks for food before they left-"

"You got them out of town?" I practically screamed at him, my eyes huge.

Dally shrugged. "Yeah. Gave 'em some cash and got 'em on a train to a safe spot. Told 'em to buy plenty of food-"

"Where are they at?" Now I was screaming. "When did you last see them?"

"Saturday night- or Sunday morning, whichever. And I told you already, Superman, I can't tell you where they're at. They're somewhere safe and outta the way, the fuzz'll never find 'em, so quit your worryin'."

I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, willing myself with everything I was made of not to wring Dally's neck. One hand was curled into a fist and my chest was heaving up and down. When I opened my eyes I saw that Tim Shepard and his boys were leaving. It was almost dark by then and it was slowly getting cooler out. It was quiet again as our gang turned to head for our truck. The short ride to the house seemed long for some reason, probably because it was so quiet. Soda was glaring out his window. Two-Bit was drumming on his knees, which was how we all knew he was nervous. Dally had a scowl on his face as he too stared out his window. Steve was kicking the back of my seat, but he wasn't doing it to annoy me. The look on his face told me he was thinking hard and wasn't noticing what he was doing, so I didn't say a word about it.

I didn't feel like cooking supper that night, so Soda helped me fix some sandwiches using some leftover cold chicken. I set out some chocolate cake along with the sandwiches and called the boys in to eat. We were quiet as we ate too. Nobody bothered with doing the dishes: we stuck them in the sink and settled down in the living room for the night. I picked up a newspaper and flipped over to the sports pages. Two-Bit and Steve fought over the remote, the same as every night, and Two-Bit won out and started flicking through channels, looking for some cartoons. Soda had disappeared down the hall to his and Pony's room. Dally had gone out on the porch and I could smell cigarette smoke through the screen door. I tossed the newspaper aside and got up out of the armchair and went out on the porch to sit with him.

He didn't look over at me as I sat down on the steps beside him. He was watching the street and smoking. _Was he watching for Ponyboy and Johnny?_ That was silly: Dallas Winston only worried over himself. But there was something in his eyes that told me right now he was missing Pony and Johnny as bad as the rest of us, so I said quietly, "You alright, Dally?"

"Yeah." He tossed the end of his cigarette off the porch and rubbed a hand over his face. "Just can't stop thinkin' about the kids, is all."

"None of us can, Dally," I said softly. "But- but I'm sure they're fine, wherever… wherever they're at…" I stopped as the screen door opened and Sodapop came out on the porch with a piece of paper. He looked as though he'd been crying as he handed me the paper. "It's for Pony."

It was a letter. Dally and I moved under the porch light to read it.

 _Ponyboy,_

 _Well I guess you got into some trouble, huh? Darry and me nearly went nuts when you ran out like that. Darry is awful sorry he hit you. You know he didn't mean it. And then you and Johnny turned up mising and what with that dead kid in the park and Dally getting hauled into the station, well it scared us something awful. The police came by to question us and we told them as much as we could. I can't believe little old Johnny could kill somebody. I know Dally knows where you are, but you know him. He keeps his trap shut and won't tell me nothing. Darry hasn't got the slightest notion where you're at and it is nearly killing him. I wish you'd come back and turn your selfves in but I guess you can't since Johnny might get hurt. You sure are famous. You got a paragraph in the newspaper even. Take care and say hi to Johnny for us._

 _Sodapop Curtis_

Dally looked up from the paper: he'd finished reading it before I did. "What you want us to do with this?"

Soda was trying hard not to cry. His whole body was shaking and he had tears in his eyes. "Could you give it to Pony? When… when you see him and Johnny next?"

He started bawling. Dally was nodding as he folded the letter up and shoved it deep in his pocket. I went over to Soda and put an arm around him, leading him back into the house and down the hall to his bed. Steve and Two-Bit followed from the living room and watched quietly as I helped Soda lie down and sat right next to him, stroking a hand through his hair. Dally hadn't come in from the porch. Nobody noticed, and if they did, they didn't say a thing about it. Sodapop just lay there and bawled until he fell asleep, and Steve came and laid down beside him, throwing an arm across his back and falling asleep too. I watched the two of them and for the first time in a long time, I thought about how much we had lucked out to have each other. I couldn't get how we had all been so mad at each other when Ponyboy and Johnny ran off, how we had all been so quick to blame one another for causing the whole mess, when right now was the time when we needed to pull together and figure a way out of it all.

 _It's Ponyboy and Johnny who really pull this gang together,_ I thought as I turned out the light and pulled the door shut and walked back down the hall with Two-Bit. _We gotta stick together for them._

I stuck my head out the screen door, but Dally was long gone. I sighed a little and went back in the house. Two-Bit had turned off the cartoons and was sprawled out on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling with arms behind his head.

"You ain't gonna go home tonight?" I asked quietly, going into the kitchen to wash up the dishes.

"Nah. I'd rather be here," Two-Bit yawned. He had gotten up and come into the kitchen after me. He opened the icebox and pulled out the last piece of chocolate cake. I handed him a clean plate and fork and he settled at the kitchen table to eat.

As I ran the dishes under some hot water, I heard Two-Bit ask in a worried voice, "What do you think is gonna happen to Pony and Johnny… when they come home, I mean? You think they're gonna take 'em in and question 'em right away? Or is the state gonna go ahead and… and you know, take Pony…?"

I suddenly felt sick as he said that. That hadn't occurred to me at all: _would the state go and take Ponyboy away from me? And Sodapop? If I can't keep my fourteen-year-old baby brother out of trouble, they're gonna think I can't handle my sixteen-year-old brother either..._ Two-Bit was watching me sadly from across the kitchen. I slowly left the sink and sat down at the table, shaking my head. "I don't know Two-Bit… they might…"

We sat quietly for a few minutes as it all sunk in. Two-Bit got up and put his dishes in the sink and muttered, "I'm goin' to bed," and headed for the sofa again. I got up and turned out the kitchen lights and started down the hall for my room, and then turned back for a second. "You need anything, Two-Bit? A pillow or somethin'?"

He raised his head. "Nah, I'm good, Superman. 'Night," he added softly.

Though I was still feeling a little sick from the thought of my brothers being taken away from me, and the thought of what was going to happen to Ponyboy and Johnny when they made it home, I thought again about how much our gang had lucked out to have each other, especially now. "Okay then, 'night, Two-Bit."

I continued on down the hall, stopping and looking in on Soda and Steve. They were both still passed out, Steve's arm still slung across Soda's middle, and I grinned a little as I pulled their door shut again. I went into my own room and dropped on top of the sheets and as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Dally had disappeared again. We didn't see or hear from him on Friday, and when the gang dropped by to eat Friday morning, he didn't show.

I was running late to work: I had slept straight through the alarm I had set for six-thirty, and Sodapop hadn't gotten up either because he hadn't heard me or the alarm. I didn't have time to shave or anything, and I was in a bad mood as I pulled some chocolate cake out of the icebox for us to eat. Soda was still in the shower as I wolfed down two huge pieces of cake and wrapped up a third one for my lunch. I stuffed it in my work bag with my toolbelt and my workpad and ran down the hall to the bathroom, banging on the door and hollering, "Hurry it up, Soda, we're running way too late!"

"I know, I know!" I heard him splutter through the door.

"If Steve's butt ain't here in the next five minutes he's walkin' to work!" I heard the shower shut off and Soda hopped through the door with a towel around his waist. I rolled my eyes and went to grab my coat and work boots from the living room.

Steve and Two-Bit came in and went straight for the kitchen to grab some cake. I followed them to make sure they left some for Soda. "Either of ya'll seen Dally around?"

They shook their heads and continued eating. Soda came in then, trying to rub grease in his hair and pull his DX jacket on at the same time. He dropped the jacket and reached for some cake, but I took one look at the clock and stopped him.

"Take it with you, we gotta go," I said, slinging my work bag over my shoulder and heading out to the truck. I raised my voice as the screen door slammed shut behind me. "Hurry it up!"

It was just me and Sodapop at our house that night, and it was awfully quiet. I cooked supper and another chocolate cake to put in the icebox for breakfast. Soda helped with the dishes and we settled in the living room, taking care to leave the porch light on and the screen door unlocked as usual.

I was flipping through the newspaper for the sports pages and I didn't notice Soda get up and leave the room, until I heard him bawling. I sighed deeply and got up out of the armchair to go to him. He was sitting in the hall outside his and Pony's room, his back up against the wall and his shoulders slumped forward, holding his head in his hands. I sat beside him without a word and kept a hand on his shoulder until he raised his head to look at me.

"Darry, it's been a week since… since Pony and Johnny… when are they gonna come home, Darry? When? We- we don't even k-know if they… if they…"

The telephone was ringing in the living room. I pulled Sodapop to his feet and helped him down the hall with me, sitting him gently down on the sofa and going to answer the phone.

"Am I speaking with a Mr. Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Jr.?" It was a woman with a very serious-sounding voice on the other end.

My heart stopped and then started going a million miles an hour. "Yeah?"

"Hospital speaking. Your brother Ponyboy Curtis was brought in by ambulance about an hour ago after suffering some minor scratches and burns in a fire near Windrixville."

I about dropped the phone. "Wha- what…?" I looked at Soda and his eyes were huge, his jaw dropped.

"Ponyboy is a very fortunate young man. He got bumped and bruised quite a bit, but they've treated all of his scratches and burns in the ambulance and he's doing very well here at the hospital. We've been keeping an eye on him, though…"

"What… a fire? What happened?" I asked in a shaky voice. Soda was looking hysterical as he jumped up from the sofa and ran to my side to hear.

"Your brother and another young man ran into a burning church to save some schoolchildren who were trapped inside. They helped the children out of a broken window before trying to escape themselves, and while your brother made it out, the other young man wasn't so fortunate… he's suffered several severe injuries and is currently unconscious. We got the whole story from a young man who claims to be friends with the two boys."

Soda had pushed his face into my shoulder and was sobbing hard. I swallowed and slid an arm slowly around him, holding him to my side as I said sharply into the phone, "Who was that man…?"

"A Mr. Dallas Winston. He gave us the whole story in the ambulance."

 _So that's where Dally's been today... which means... which means that other "young man" had to be... Johnny..._ I felt sick and scared. "We'll be down there to get Ponyboy right away," I said quickly. "Thank you." I dropped the phone and half-dragged Soda out to the truck with me.

I drove out to the hospital about twenty miles over the speed limit, faster than I had ever driven before. Sodapop was still crying and shaking, leaning as close to me as he could get. Neither of us wore seatbelts. I let Soda lean into my shoulder and bawl as I murmured, "It's gonna be okay, little buddy, it's gonna be okay…" _And maybe... maybe it will be okay. Ponyboy and Johnny are back home. They came back, and that's the most important thing... isn't it?_

We pulled into the hospital lot and jumped out of the truck, running for the doors to the emergency ward. Soda had stopped crying and when I glanced over my shoulder at him he had an eager, hopeful look in his brown eyes.

We burst through the doors and looked wildly around for a doctor or a nurse. The first person we found pointed us toward a door at the end of the hall, and we took off running again. Soda got there first and yanked it open, and the next thing I saw was this skinny blonde kid with soot in his hair and covering his face, running toward us, and Soda was reaching for him and catching him in his arms and swinging him around in a big bear hug. _Ponyboy. That kid is Ponyboy..._ Soda had set our baby brother down and was pushing his hair back with one shaking hand, saying in a weak, tearful voice, "Oh Ponyboy… your hair, your tuff, tuff hair…"

Pony looked exhausted through the soot and bruises and scratches covering his face, and he was much thinner than he'd been a week ago, but it was really him: I knew it because of his greenish-gray eyes, his eyes that he insisted were gray, not green. _He's back, he's home, he came home to us... he's back home and safe with Sodapop and me... I thought... after all this time... after all this time he was... he could've been... he may not've... like when Mom and Dad..._

I had never thought like this before, not ever. And right then, right there in the hospital emergency ward, for the first time in so many years, I slowly started to cry. I leaned in the door, shoved my fists deep into my pockets, and just bawled without making one sound. Soda and Pony had turned toward me by now. I swallowed and said, "Ponyboy…"

He just looked up at me and didn't say anything. I couldn't breathe all of a sudden: _he really does hate me... he'll never forgive me..._ The blank, motionless look in Pony's eyes turned to shock as we stood there, me bawling quietly and him watching, and as I dropped my eyes and started to turn away I heard him scream my name, and the next thing he had his arms tight around my waist, his cheek pushed into my chest, saying "Darry, I'm sorry…"

I stroked his hair and tried hard to stop crying. I was shaking and so was he. Soda was watching us with a tearful grin as I said through my tears, "Oh Pony… I thought we'd lost you… like we did Mom and Dad…" and to get that off my chest felt about as good as holding my baby brother against me for the first time since I can't remember when. Now my brothers knew how I felt, I didn't have to hide my feelings from them anymore. Now they knew what had gone on in my head that Friday when I had told Ponyboy off after he got jumped by those Socs. Now they knew why I'd lost it and gone and hit Pony after he came in late Saturday night. Maybe I'd been hiding the fear of losing my brothers like Mom and Dad from myself too, not just the gang.

 _But now I know, and now they know. Maybe now they'll get it,_ I thought as I stroked Pony's blonde hair and Soda and I grinned at each other through our crying. _Maybe now they'll get that I'm only hard on them because I love them to death, because I'm afraid of losing more people I love, because I don't know what I'd do without either of them. Maybe now we'll be okay. We're gonna be okay._


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

We sat down on some benches in the hospital waiting area to find out how Johnny and Dallas were doing. Sodapop and I were dying to hear about everything that had gone on in the past week, but we didn't ask anything partly because we knew Pony was exhausted and in no shape to recount a week's worth of trouble, and partly because we didn't need to anyways, because not only the fuzz showed up at the hospital, but a whole bunch of reporters from the newspaper came with them. The fuzz were there to get Ponyboy's side of what had happened in the park with the Socs, and the reporters were there to get all of this and ask Pony their own questions. They had cameras pointed at the three of us the whole time the police were questioning Pony, and they asked us at one point to stand together for some guy to photograph us for Sunday's paper. Sodapop was loving it all: he was walking around picking up all the reporters' press equipment and making up his own questions to ask the nurses, who were hanging around the edges of the waiting room, trying to get in some of the photographs. At one point he went and tried to pick up a gun and when the fuzz spotted him he just grinned in such a goofy way that the fuzz had to grin right along with him.

I was keeping an eye out for Ponyboy as the fuzz and the reporters questioned and photographed him: he was looking more and more exhausted with every word he said. I finally stepped in and told them all to lay off of Pony, that he wasn't in any shape to be talking so much, and that took them down a little, but they didn't stop. One of the fuzz pulled me to the side and told me to have a seat. I looked quickly at Sodapop, jerking my head toward Ponyboy, and he nodded and went to sit beside him, putting an arm across his shoulders and glaring at all the people still questioning our baby brother. I sighed a little and sat down on a bench next to the cop.

"Darrel, you understand that what's happened during this past week with Ponyboy is major grounds for your brothers being placed in a boys' home by the state…?"

"Yessir, I understand." The thought had been bugging me since Thursday night, when Two-Bit had asked me what was going to happen to Pony and Johnny.

"And you understand that because Ponyboy made the choice to, ah… to run away from home, he is required to appear in juvenile court to resolve whether he and Sodapop will be allowed to continue to stay in your care?"

 _What…?_ I was as stunned as I'd been when I'd heard Dally say, " _Man, now I see why Pony ran off, with you always on his back like that…_ " that day when Two-Bit was jumped. "Juvenile court?"

"Yes, Darrel, juvenile court. It's against the law for a child to run away from home or the people legally responsible for them. I believe Ponyboy's friend, Mr. Cade, will be attending the court as well, as he also broke the law by running away from home with your brother. And of course, the incident in the park… I'm afraid Mr. Cade is in for quite a bit of trouble-"

I cut him off, my voice shaking with anger and shock at the thought of poor little Johnny being punished for running away from the place this cop was calling his "home." "You can't punish Johnny for running away from home. He doesn't even have a home."

"Yes, Darrel, he does. And he will be attending juvenile court, the same as your brother. If Ponyboy does not attend, he and Sodapop will automatically be taken from your custody and become wards of the state. It's highly in your best interest to-"

"Yeah, I know," I sighed. _This juvenile court thing isn't going to get us separated, I know it won't... Cherry promised to testify against the Socs, she said they were drunk and looking for a fight, they were going to drown Pony and beat up Johnny, it was all just self-defense... and Pony and I are okay now, we've worked it all out, they can't separate us after we've made it all okay..._ "I'll make sure he's there."

"Good, very good… and Darrel? Please try and keep your brothers out of trouble after all this. I'd hate to see the state take Ponyboy and Sodapop away from you… after all, you worked so hard to get custody of them after your parents passed. If the juvenile court decides to let Ponyboy and Sodapop stay with you, they'll keep you under closer watch than ever, and one more incident like this… well, they won't bring you to juvenile court for a hearing. You understand?"

I looked across the room at Pony and Soda. The fuzz followed my gaze. Pony was leaning against Soda's shoulder with his eyes closed as the reporters started to pack up all their equipment. I felt a strange rush of affection for the two of them as I sat there. _We're gonna be okay. I ain't aimin' to let anybody take my baby brothers away from me._

I stood up, rubbing my palms on my jeans, and went toward my brothers, shifting Pony over and sitting down between the two of them and glaring at the lingering reporters. Pony opened his eyes and looked up at me, and one reporter took the chance to ask one last question. "What would you do right now if you could do anything you wanted?"

Pony looked so exhausted it was a miracle he didn't fall over off the bench. He was sort of leaning into my side and he was fighting to keep his eyes open as he said softly, "Take a bath."

I guess the reporter thought that was funny, but I knew Ponyboy was being serious.

It was quiet again and my brothers were getting sleepier, I could tell: Sodapop had his long legs stretched out to one side and his head in my lap, his face pushed against my stomach and one arm thrown back. Ponyboy kept covering up his yawning. The waiting area was quiet again. I glanced down at Soda and grinned a little as he slept on. "He didn't get much sleep this week, he hardly slept at all," I told Pony softly.

Soda must not've been totally out. "You didn't either."

 _Ain't that the truth,_ I thought as I leaned my head back on the wall and closed my eyes. I might've gone to sleep right there on that hospital bench, but before I could get too comfortable, Ponyboy was pushing on my shoulder, whispering my name.

I opened my eyes to look over at him. "Yeah, kiddo?"

"Ain't we gonna go see how Johnny and Dally are doin'?"

"Yeah, Pony, course we will," I said through a huge yawn. _I_ am _worried about Johnnycake._ "Let me… let me go get a doctor." I laid Soda's head on the bench and got to my feet, walking over to a nurse who was pushing an empty gurney. "Excuse me?"

"Yes?" She turned to face me, and I was a little startled to see a pitying look on her face.

"Um… we're friends of Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston…? We were… we were wantin' to see how they were doin'..."

But she wouldn't (or couldn't) tell me a thing, she just continued on down the hall with the gurney, calling over her shoulder as she went, "The doctor is the one you need to speak with about your concerns." So I went and hunted up the doctor that was assigned to Dally's room, which wasn't all that hard to do: the first doctor I came close to was spitting nails about some towheaded hood who was putting up a fight over in the second floor. Ponyboy had followed me down the hall, and when I looked back I could see Sodapop sitting up and glancing around, probably wondering where the heck we'd gone.

The doctor stopped to take a breath and I cleared my throat to talk. "Excuse me, we're friends of Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston, and we were wondering if- if you could tell us-" I swallowed hard at the fear in Pony's eyes at Johnny's name "-how they're doing…?"

The doctor was shaking his head as soon as I said the word "friends." "I can talk to the family only."

I grit my teeth and said, "You don't get it. We're the only family Johnny and Dallas got-"

"I completely understand how you feel, Mr…, ah-"

"Curtis." My teeth were still clenched. The doctor nodded and went on, "...Mr. Curtis, but you are not family of Mr. Winston nor Mr. Cade and therefore, I cannot disclose any information on either young man to you and your brothers. Now, I suggest you all head on home to get some sleep. Ponyboy has had a long, hard week and I-"

"You don't get it," I said again. "Johnny and Dallas may have family, but they sure don't give a hang about either of them, and we do… We're the only ones who do."

The doctor sighed deeply and glanced at the clipboard he was carrying. "Are you sure you want to hear this? Because I'm afraid it isn't good news-"

I looked down at Ponyboy, then back at Sodapop. "Yeah, we're sure. How're they doing?"

"Well… Mr. Winston seems to be doing fine… he's got a bad burn on one arm and he's been bumped and bruised like your brother here, but he'll be clear to leave soon, sometime in a couple days, it looks like…"

"And Johnny?" Pony asked. He sounded scared.

"You mean Mr. Cade? Oh, well…" The doctor looked real uncomfortable as he spoke. "I'd rather talk to his family first, he-"

"He has no family!" I all but screamed in his face.

"Well, he isn't looking too good, I'm afraid, boys. Right now he's listed in critical condition… his back has been broken and it's paralyzed him from the waist down, not to mention all the burns and bruises and scratches he sustained when that old church collapsed… and he's in shock, on top of it all," the doctor rattled off, not looking up once from his clipboard. I looked down at Pony again and saw him looking the way he had that day he was jumped at the lot. I slid my arm across his shoulders and squeezed him in, not just to try and comfort him, but because I was feeling as awful as he looked. I didn't want to go in to Johnny's room and see him lying up in a bed all broken and burned, not able to feel anything below his waist, even if all he would've felt was pain. I didn't want to go in to Johnny's room and see him even if the doctor had let us. Soda wasn't looking too hot either. The doctor didn't look the least bit sorry about the news he'd given us. "You wanted it straight and you got it straight. Now go home and get some rest," he said, turning away to talk to a passing nurse.

I sighed and softly rubbed the back of Ponyboy's head because I didn't know what else to do. "We'd better go home, we can't do anything here."

We headed out to our truck in silence. Ponyboy and Sodapop usually argued over who got to sit in front, but I guess they were both too tired out to even talk, because Pony just slid into the backseat of the truck and lay down and was out cold before I even had the key in the ignition. Soda leaned into my shoulder again and went right to sleep as I drove, keeping the radio off so the two of them could sleep. We were home before I knew it, and I was glad to know I would finally be able to flop down on my bed and get a good night's sleep. I shook Soda a little to get him awake, and he answered with a huge yawn as he got out of the truck and opened the back door to wake up Pony.

I stood beside the gate and watched the two of them, Soda shaking Pony gently and saying, "Hey Ponyboy, wake up, you still got to get to the house." Pony wasn't getting up, and Soda shook him a little harder. "Oh come on, Ponyboy, we're sleepy too…"

It was getting a little cold standing around out there in the yard watching this all, and I was pretty sleepy right then: I thought I was going to drop down and go to sleep right there at the gate. I nudged Soda out of the way and picked Pony up in my arms, and started to carry him up to the house. Soda ran ahead to get the door. "He's gettin' mighty big to be carried."

I looked down at Ponyboy and sighed softly. "He's sure lost a lot of weight." I carried him down the hall to their room with Sodapop at my side, and dropped him on the bed. He didn't open his eyes or move at all. Soda pulled Pony's shoes and shirt off and tossed them in one corner of the room, and then he stretched out beside our baby brother and threw an arm across him, same as every other night. I leaned in the door and grinned at the sight of it all. Soda hadn't even bothered undressing himself. "'Night," I whispered.

"Mmmmm… 'night," I heard him whisper back, and I turned and shut the door softly behind me and crossed the hall to my own room. I could hear Soda snoring lightly before I even got into bed, which only reminded me more of how tired out I was. I kicked my shoes off at the door and left them there, peeled off my shirt and tossed it on the floor, then dropped on the bed without bothering to pull the sheets over me, and was out like a light.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

I couldn't really remember anything from the night before when I first woke up Saturday morning. I knew I had to go to work: usually Saturdays are days off for most people, but we just aren't most people. We needed the money badly, and if that meant work on Saturdays, we worked on Saturdays. Sodapop works Saturdays down at the DX too, but only for half-days. I didn't mind working full days anymore, and my job paid better than Soda's anyways, and I was feeling kind of bad about only working half-days that week when Ponyboy and Johnny had been in Windrixville.

 _Ponyboy._ Now I remembered everything, and it all came crashing back down on top of me as I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling. _Pony had come back home last night, he and Johnny and Dallas had been in that burning church, they had been brought into town to the hospital, the gang was all together again…_

I heard someone moving around in the kitchen, and from the sounds of dishes and the icebox opening and closing, whoever it was was making breakfast. I heard the sound of the screen door opening, and then Ponyboy's voice calling, "In here. Don't slam the door," and then the door slammed and there was the sound of people running. I rolled my eyes a little: _that's Steve and Two-Bit right there._

I pushed myself into a sitting position and glanced at the alarm clock on the little table next to my bed. _I'm gonna be late for work if I sit here any longer._ I stuck my head out into the hall and called Soda's name to get him up, then headed to take a quick shower. I could hear Steve and Two-Bit making the usual racket that they normally made out in the kitchen, and Pony sounding annoyed with them. Sodapop came into the bathroom as I was finishing up shaving and jumped in the shower. I grinned at him in the mirror as he reached for his towel, and when he grinned widely back I knew we were thinking the same thing: we were relieved that our baby brother was home safe and sound.

I was coming down the hall to the kitchen just in time to hear old Steve ask, "...Where's Soda and Superman?" I slipped into the kitchen behind him and lifted him up off the floor and dropped him flat on his back. Soda came in behind me wearing nothing but his towel around his waist, running to the table and grabbing the carton of chocolate milk and gulping some down. I shook my head at him but didn't say anything, because we've all done it at one time or another. "Where's that blue shirt I washed yesterday?" he asked, wiping one hand across his mouth to get rid of the milk mustache he was wearing.

"Hate to tell you, buddy, but you have to wear clothes to work, there's a law or something," Steve said from the floor, still sprawled out on his back.

"Oh yeah," Soda said as he dropped the milk carton back on the table. "Where're those wheat jeans too?"

I glanced up at the clock: _was that egg up there? How the heck did egg wind up on the clock?_ "I ironed, they're in my closet," I told him. "Hurry up, you're gonna be late."

"I'm hurryin', I'm hurryin'..." Soda huffed as he went running back down the hall, Steve on his heels, and then after a minute I could hear them fooling around in my room with what sounded like the pillows from my bed. I went to the icebox and started poking through it for some chocolate cake.

Ponyboy was standing across the room by the table watching. "Darry… did you know about the juvenile court?"

My talk with the fuzz flashed through my head. I couldn't look at Pony. "Yeah, the cops told me last night," I said, fighting to keep my voice even with his. _They can still split us up..._

"...I had one of those dreams last night," Ponyboy was saying, still watching me. "The one I can't ever remember-"

Now I was staring at him, fearfully as his words registered with me. "What?"

That dream Ponyboy had started having the night of Mom and Dad's funeral was as scary to me and Sodapop as it was him. The even scarier part of it all was that when Pony woke up screaming and thrashing and we ran in to get him, he could never tell us what had happened to scare him as bad as it did. That was when Soda started sleeping in his room with him and he stopped having that dream so much, but it hadn't gone away completely, and after he'd had it a few more times I took him to see a doctor, who decided Pony had too much of an imagination.

 _I guess we've all just been too busy to know if he's been having that dream again,_ I thought as I pulled out some chocolate cake and a knife. Even Two-Bit was looking interested. "Was it very bad?" he asked Pony.

"No."

Something in his face told me he was lying. I had just opened my mouth to ask him if he was able to remember anything about the dream this time, but Sodapop and Steve had come running back in, Soda dressed now, to get some cake. I started handing around pieces.

Soda was leaning against the counter stuffing cake in his mouth. "You know what? he announced absentmindedly. "When we stomp the Socies good, me and Stevie here are gonna throw a big party and everybody can get stoned… then we'll go chase the Socs clear to Mexico!"

Steve whooped and Two-Bit was clapping his approval, a wide grin across his face. "Where you gonna get the dough, little man?" I asked, passing cake to Two-Bit and Ponyboy.

"Ah, I'll think of somethin'," Soda said around a mouthful of chocolate.

Ponyboy was looking interested. "You going to take Sandy to the party?"

It got real quiet then. Soda's was looking at the floor, his ears turned red. Steve was glaring at Pony. Two-Bit had lost his grin and was looking uncomfortably at me. And Pony looked confused. "What's the deal?" he asked, looking around the kitchen at all of us.

Soda wouldn't look at him. Steve was still glaring. "No, she went to live with her grandmother in Florida."

Pony was still looking confused. "How come…?"

Steve answered with a scowl. "Look, does he have to draw you a picture?" he snapped. "It was either that or get married, and her parents almost hit the roof at the idea of her marryin' a sixteen-year-old kid-"

"Seventeen," Sodapop corrected in a soft voice, still not looking up. "I'll be seventeen in a couple of weeks."

Ponyboy looked at the floor too. "Oh." It was still dead quiet. I glanced up at the clock again and said, "We'd better get on to work, Pepsi-Cola." That had been Dad's pet name for Sodapop. I hardly ever called him that anymore. Soda didn't even grin like he usually did, he just headed to grab his shoes and his DX jacket.

I turned to Ponyboy. He was still staring at the floor. I looked quickly at Steve and Two-Bit and said, "I hate to leave you here by yourself, Ponyboy… maybe I ought to take the day off."

Pony looked up, surprised and a little confused. "I've stayed by my lonesome before. You can't afford a day off."

The look on his face as he said those words made me feel awful somehow. "Yeah, but you just got back and I really ought to stay-"

"I'll babysit him," Two-Bit jumped in. Pony took a swing at him, scowling, and Two-Bit ducked away, looking at me. "I haven't got anything better to do."

Steve was watching Two-Bit incredulously. "Why don't you get a job?" he asked. "Ever consider working for a living?"

He hadn't. I could tell by the look on his face that he never really had. "Work? And ruin my rep? I wouldn't be babysittin' the kid here if I knew of some good day-nursery open on Saturdays-"

At that Pony jumped up and tipped back the chair Two-Bit was in, sending Two-Bit sprawling onto the floor. They wrestled a minute and then Two-Bit had Pony pinned and was cheerfully saying, "Holler uncle!"

I grabbed my jacket and shrugged into it, watching Ponyboy struggle down on the floor, and then nudged Two-Bit in the ribs with my foot. "You two do up the dishes. You can go to the movies if you want to before you go see Dally and Johnny… Two-Bit, lay off. He ain't lookin' so good." I stepped into my work boots and slung my work bag up on one shoulder, looking down at Pony. "Ponyboy, you take a couple of aspirins and go easy. You smoke more than a pack today and I'll skin you, understood?"

He pushed Two-Bit away and got up and followed me to the door. Sodapop and Steve were already out on the porch, waiting on me. "Yeah… you carry more than one bundle of roofing at a time today and me and Soda'll skin you, understood?"

I had to grin at him. _Sometimes he's just like Sodapop… just like him and Dad._ "Yeah. See ya'll this afternoon," I said over my shoulder as the screen door slammed shut behind me. Soda and Steve raced to the truck, pushing and poking at each other. I rolled my eyes at the two of them as they went skidding and crashing into the side of the truck, shoving Steve out of my way and tossing my work bag into the front seat. Soda elbowed me in the ribs. "Can I drive us?"

Normally I don't let Sodapop drive the truck, because he's a pretty reckless driver, even with his license: he's always speeding, at least ten miles over the speed limit, and he rides the brakes because of it, which isn't a good thing to do on an old truck like ours (and besides, it isn't safe.) He's probably got more tickets than Mom and Dad ever got together, with me and maybe Two-Bit thrown in, and that's really saying something, because Two-Bit's as reckless a driver as Soda is, and half the time he's drunk when he's driving. But as I looked over at Sodapop, I knew I'd feel bad denying him anything after all that had taken a toll on him the past week.

"Alright, Sodapop, but only down to the station, 'cause I'm gonna need to pick ya'll up later after work. You got your license on you?"

Soda nodded impatiently and jumped into the driver's seat: he'd already had the key in the ignition and one foot over the gas pedal before Steve and I got in. We flew out of the yard and up the road doing near seventy.

"Damnit, Soda, the brakes, watch the brakes!" Steve and I were screaming as Soda took the corner with the brakes screeching. He just grinned and edged it toward seventy-five.

"This ain't the Indy, Soda, damnit, just slow down!" I hollered, slapping Soda across the back of the head as we screeched to a stop at a light.

Soda just grinned wider. "Or what?"

I sighed and shook my head. _He's probably just keyed up for tonight,_ I thought as we pulled into the DX and Soda and Steve jumped out, their eyes on a group of girls hanging around the garage. _We're gonna beat the Socs. They aren't gonna mess with us anymore after tonight…_

Ponyboy came in late for supper, after the rest of us had finished our food, but I didn't say anything to him about it: it had been another long, hard day at work, and I'd barely had the energy to fix supper and get ready for the rumble, and besides, today was different anyways.

Sodapop and Steve had found a deck of cards and were on their knees in the living room around the coffee table playing a game of poker. I was in my room in front of the mirror beside my closet, the sounds of the radio and Soda and Steve arguing echoing through the house. Pony was down the hall in the bathroom, him and Soda hollering back and forth to each other over all the noise.

"Soda, when'd you start shaving?"

"When I was fifteen."

"When did Darry?"

"When he was thirteen… why? You figgerin' on growing a beard for the rumble?"

I laughed to myself as Ponyboy said, "Oh you're funny… we ought to send you in to the Reader's Digest, I hear they pay a lot for funny things."

Sodapop was laughing out in the living room too. I studied myself in the mirror. I ran a hand through my short hair, with it's cowlick in back. I hated that cowlick. My hair kicks out in front over my forehead too, making me hate it even more. I could've grown my hair out long like my brothers and the gang have theirs- Two-Bit had sideburns -but I didn't want to look like the greaser that I really was, so I had my hair short. I had hair just like Dad, and I had his height, but not his eyes: my eyes weren't brown. I don't know what color my eyes really are. They're kind of blue, kind of green, more blue, I guess. They're more like Mom's eyes were. Sometimes I wished hard that I'd gotten Dad's eyes instead, because maybe then I'd of been more like him, more like Sodapop was, and Ponyboy and I would've gotten on better.

 _That's dumb_ , I told myself as I ran a comb through my hair again, trying to tame down the cowlick. _It doesn't matter what color your eyes are._ I dropped the comb and sighed: it wasn't working. I stretched my arms up over my head and rolled my shoulders back a few times. I've always had muscle: besides six years of football, I work out at gyms pretty regularly. I watched the muscles in my chest and arms bulge as I moved my shoulders back. I know I'm strong and everything and I know the gang all mess with me about it, calling me "Superman" and stuff like that, but I know I'm pretty smart too, and it bugs me that most people only know me for the looks.

I sighed again and looked through my closet for a shirt. I found an old black T-shirt and pulled it over my head, studying how tight it was in the mirror. I could count each muscle in my chest and in my stomach too. I grinned a little as I pictured some poor Soc jumping on me during the rumble and headed down the hall to join the others waiting in the living room. Sodapop and Steve had started another argument over their poker game: I saw the ace poking out of Soda's shoe. Ponyboy was in the armchair, and as I'd been coming down the hall I'd heard him asking Soda and Steve why they liked fights.

"...It's action. It's a contest. Like a drag race or a dance or somethin'," Soda was saying to Pony, looking confused. Steve jumped in, waving his cards around as he talked. "Shoot, I wanna beat those Socs' heads in. When I get in a fight I wanna stomp the other guy good. I like it, too."

I was leaning against the wall behind the armchair listening to them. Ponyboy turned to look up at me and asked, "How come you like fights, Darry?"

I just watched him, not saying anything, my arms folded over my chest. Soda looked up at me too and grinned. "He likes to show off his muscles."

He was too far out of reach for me to kick him. "I'm gonna show 'em off on you, little buddy, if you get any mouthier." Soda and Steve grinned at each other, their argument temporarily forgotten, and Pony was quiet, a thoughtful look on his face. I thought about what he'd asked me: _why_ do _I like fights?_ I'd never been beat either in a street fight or a rumble, and it wasn't like I had much to worry about whenever I did get in a fight anyways (which hadn't happened often since Mom and Dad were killed.) I thought back to that day Ponyboy was jumped, all the street fights I'd been in with Socs growing up. At that time there hadn't been any real clear reason why I'd gotten into those fights to begin with… _I'm a greaser, they were Socs, no other reason. We're practically born to hate each other, and it probably won't ever change. I couldn't help being born a greaser, none of us could, that's why we gotta take up for ourselves. Maybe that's why we fight, why_ I _fight. But... what about Ponyboy? He really shouldn't be fighting... him and Johnny both... they're too small and quiet to fight... they only fight to help us out..._ I studied Ponyboy as I stood there lost in thought. He still looked tired out and a little pale, or maybe that was just because his hair was blonde now. But he had lost a lot of weight and I saw that his T-shirt was real loose around his shoulders: it looked like it was hanging off his body. Usually before a rumble he went right along with Soda and the others goofing around and carrying on, but tonight he just sat in the armchair staring at the floor quietly.

"I don't know if you oughta be in this rumble, Pony," I slowly voiced my thoughts aloud. Soda and Steve looked up from their poker game, their faces blank with surprise and confusion. Pony looked up at me the same way and asked, "How come? I've always come through before, ain't I?" He sounded a little desperate, which seemed weird to me, because out of all of us, Ponyboy had never been the most eager to fight, like Steve and Dally were all the time.

I grinned. Pony was right: he _had_ always come through in any fight, whether he'd been looking for one or not. He was a pretty decent fighter. "Yeah," I said, realizing how proud I was of my baby brother. "You fight real good for a kid your size… but you were in shape before… you've lost weight and you don't look so great, kid, you're tensed up too much."

Soda spoke up from across the room as he struggled to get the ace out of his shoe out of Steve's sight. "Shoot, we all get tensed up before a rumble… let him fight tonight. Skin never hurt anyone… no weapons, no danger," he added matter-of-factly.

Pony jumped in. "I'll be okay, I'll get hold of a little one, okay…?"

I sighed deeply, still unconvinced as I stood there studying him again. _Gosh, but that kid was skinny as a stick... and he_ does _look all tensed up, and tired too..._ It wasn't his hair that was making him look pale, he really was. "Well… Johnny won't be there this time… but then Curly Shepard won't be there either- or Dally -and we'll need every man we can get."

"What happened to Shepard?"

Steve answered him, scowling at Sodapop: he had seen the ace and was kicking at Soda's shoe. "He's in the cooler. In the reformatory."

Pony didn't look as though it surprised him. He turned back to me and begged, "Let me fight, Darry. If it was blades or chains or something it'd be different… nobody ever gets really hurt in a skin rumble…"

 _He's been in rumbles before... he's a tough kid, and this is just skin against skin... he's right, nobody ever gets too badly hurt fighting skin..._ "Well… I guess you can, but be careful, and if you get in a jam, holler and I'll get you out."

I could tell as I said this that Ponyboy was fighting not to roll his eyes. He sighed a little and said, "I'll be okay. How come you never worry about Sodapop as much? I don't see you lecturin' him…"

I grinned again, glad that Ponyboy and I had managed to avoid another blow-up with each other. I slung an arm around Sodapop and answered, "Man… this is one kid brother I don't have to worry about..." Soda jabbed me in the ribs. "This kiddo can use his head: you can see he uses it for one thing… to grow hair on," I added, running for the door as Soda took a swing at me.

Two-Bit was on the porch: he had been reaching to open the door as I came flying out of the house. I flung myself off the porch and turned a forward somersault in midair, coming down on my stomach on the ground and jumping to my feet. Two-Bit was still up on the porch. He stuck his head in the house and hollered, "I see we're in prime condition for a rumble… is everybody happy?"

Soda was the next one out the door, screaming "Yeah!" as he too flung himself off the porch in a midair somersault. He walked on his hands a little ways and then turned a no-hands cartwheel. Steve came running out behind him, carrying on like an Indian, leaping across the yard until he reached us, then flipped backward. I heard Ponyboy whoop and turn a no-hands cartwheel off the porch, landing in the grass and scrambling to his feet, his eyes shining with eager anticipation. Two-Bit copied him and they made their way over to us, and we headed up the street to the vacant lot.

We were wild and loud as we made our way in the dark to the lot. Sodapop was chanting at the top of his lungs behind me, "I am a greaser, I am a JD and a hood… I blacken the name of our fair city, I beat up people, I rob gas stations, I am a menace to society… man, do I have fun!"

Steve joined right in. "Greaser, greaser, greaser… O victim of environment, underpriviliged, rotten, no-count hood…!" he sang out, cracking up and shoving Soda's shoulder.

I was growing more and more excited with every step closer to the lot. "Juvenile delinquent, you're no good!"

Two-Bit started then. "Get thee hence, white trash," he said in a voice that I guessed was supposed to mimic some Soc. "I am a Soc, I am the privileged and the well-dressed… I throw beer blasts, drive fancy cars, break windows at fancy parties-"

Ponyboy cut in, fighting to keep from busting up laughing. "And what do you do for fun…?"

Two-Bit screamed, "I jump greasers!" and turned a cartwheel as the rest of us laughed and shoved at each other.

My mind was racing as we came closer to the lot. Yes, I was happy: everything was more or less how it usually was with our gang again. Ponyboy and Johnny had come home, even if Johnny and Dallas were in the hospital, even if Pony and Johnny still had to go to that juvenile court to face punishment for killing that Soc and running away from home… _The juvenile court._ If the fuzz showed up during the rumble we would all get hauled in if we got caught: no, Sodapop and Ponyboy couldn't get thrown in jail, both of them were underage- and in my custody rather than Mom and Dad's. _They would get thrown in a boys' home if they got caught, they can only arrest me and Steve and Two-Bit and the other guys._

I could hear Pony asking Two-Bit why he liked fights. I half-turned to see Two-Bit staring at him, bewildered. "Shoot, everybody fights…"

"Listen, Soda, you and Ponyboy," I cut in, pointing at the two of them. "If the fuzz show, you two beat it out of there… the rest of us can only get jailed, you two can get sent to a boys' home."

Steve was frowning as he interjected, "Nobody in this neighborhood's going to call the fuzz, they know what'd happen if they did."

I shook my head. "All the same, you two blow at the first sign of trouble, you hear me?" I looked over at Soda and Pony again.

"Ya sure don't need an amplifier," Soda confirmed as I turned back around. We were at the end of the street by then. I could see under the streetlamps the outlines of Tim Shepard and his gang, passing around cigarettes and talking in low, rough voices. The Brumly gang was there too, moving among Tim Shepard's gang as if they were one outfit. We headed toward them, nodding silently to the faces we recognized, and looking warily past the ones we didn't. There were maybe twenty greasers there.

I watched as Ponyboy was approached by one of the guys from the Brumly gang. The guy was near twice my baby brother's size and definitely shady-looking: he was a hood, not just a greaser. He said something to Pony and held out one hand- I couldn't hear a thing over the noise of everybody in the lot carrying on -but Pony just pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and passed it to the Brumly guy. I let out a little sigh I hadn't realized I'd been holding in, and then realized something else: for the first time, I was worried about Ponyboy fighting tonight.

He and the guy from Brumly were talking casually enough, though I saw the awfully eager look of anticipation for the rumble on one face, and it's complete opposite on the other. _I knew I shouldn't have let Pony fight tonight, he's too tired and weak... but he was okay at the house, he was begging me to let him come, he said he felt fine... and it's too late now, we're all here and the Socs'll be here any minute now... Sodapop and the others are gonna wonder what's wrong if I tell Pony he can't fight-_

"Hey Curtis!"

It was Tim Shepard calling from over on the other side of the lot. Ponyboy turned around too, looking a little startled. Sodapop called back, "Which one?" from where he and Steve and Two-Bit were standing smoking some cigarettes with a few boys from Shepard's gang.

"The big one." Tim was looking right at me. "Come on over here."

Even though Tim Shepard was three years younger than me and about half a foot shorter, he had much more authority than me and was the true definition of a hood: and he knew it too. He looked, acted, talked, and thought like the hood we all knew he was, and the only one that really got on with him was Dally, only because they were so much alike, except Tim was a hood, and Dally a greaser. Like I've said, no one in our gang is a hood. I stood rigid, squaring my shoulders and keeping my chin high, and made my way across the lot to Tim. The lot went dead quiet as I passed through all the greasers. They were all staring at me. I stopped in front of Tim and realized I was the biggest guy there.

Tim was eyeing me in his dangerous way. "You gonna do the honors round here tonight?"

He was asking me if I was going to kick off the rumble. _How am I supposed to tell him no?_ I nodded once. "Guess so."

Tim nodded, ashed a cigarette under his shoe, and took a sip from his can of beer. How he could stand to smoke and drink at the same time was way beyond me. There was a flash of car lights at the gate and when we all turned to look, we saw a group of Socs coming toward us. Three more cars pulled up behind the first one and more Socs got out and headed for us. We looked pretty even in numbers. They didn't talk as they lined up in front of us one by one, no clear leader heading them. Most of the Socs were eyeing Ponyboy. Some of them were looking at me, and they looked scared. I fought to keep from grinning, and then I looked over at Ponyboy again and any thought to grin was gone.

We all just stood there watching each other in total silence. I sized up each Soc there: none of them were smaller than Ponyboy, and there was an obvious disparity between the smallest Soc and my baby brother. I groaned inwardly: _Damnit, I knew I shouldn't have let Pony fight..._ A Soc with a face full of hate stepped up to face Tim Shepard. "Let's get the rules straight: nothing but our fists, and the first to run lose, right?"

"You savvy real good," Tim answered. If it was even possible his face was filled with more hate than the Soc.

With one last look at Ponyboy and the gang, I made my way under the streetlamp and stood there waiting, hating more and more as I eyed the line of Socs in front of me. "I'll take on anyone." They eyed me right back, but it was like they weren't really seeing me, in a way. No, they weren't seeing _me._ They saw just another greaser, saw just another one to hate just because of looks and money. I knew behind me all the greasers were standing in a line watching me and the Socs, and they weren't seeing the real Socs either, just some more guys to hate just because of looks and money.

And then a Soc moved out of the line to face me. "Hello, Darrel."

I raised my chin higher, squared my shoulders back and said, "Hello, Paul."

"I'll take you."

 _Has it really been this long?_ My mind raced as me and the Soc glared at each other. We'd slowly started pacing around in the middle of the lot, still under the streetlamp. _Damn, we used to be buddies, and now we're here ready to fight…?_ As I looked at Paul and he looked at me I was getting madder and madder. _He's got that football scholarship... he's probably out of school right now on vacation... and he's standing here ready to fight me and he shouldn't be here... none of them damn Socs ought to be here, there isn't one of them that has any cause to fight, they're the ones going around looking to fight us greasers all the time... like that Soc Johnny and Ponyboy killed in the park that night..._ My hand twitched at my side and just as I was ready to pull it back we all heard somebody shouting from the gate. "Hold up! Hold it…!"

I made the mistake of glancing back over my shoulder to see who it was- none other than Dallas Winston -and that's when Paul's fist connected with my jaw, hard. My head whipped back, and then I lunged at Paul and threw him to the ground. The rumble was on.

I tried to keep in range of Ponyboy as I fought, but it wasn't easy: Pony was rolling around on the ground with another Soc alongside Dally, who was taking a real beating with one messed-up arm. And I had enough to worry about fighting two Socs at one time. Paul had me around the neck and another Soc was punching me in the face. Blood was in my eyes, whose, I didn't know, from where, I didn't know. I yanked away from Paul, spinning to tackle him around the waist. I was getting slugged by the other Soc as Paul dropped to the ground with me on top of him, but as all the jealousy and rage and hate really took over for the first time since Ponyboy and Johnny had been in Windrixville, I could only keep my mind on whipping Paul. I pinned him under one arm and was slugging him in the chest, in the ribs, in the neck, in the face, anywhere I could reach him. He was screaming for help as I slugged him more and more, harder and harder, my whole body shaking with everything I'd been feeling right then. I saw Pony out of the corner of my eye held on the ground, a Soc on top of him, slugging him senseless. I knocked Paul away from me and lunged toward my baby brother, catching the Soc by one shoulder and hauling him up, punching him in the face so hard I knocked him back about three feet from me, whirling to face Ponyboy just as another Soc came running in, hands stretched to tackle me around the waist. I jerked my head out of the way of the Soc's fist in time to see Dally headed to help Pony, and then I couldn't see anything anymore except for blood in my eyes and the blurs of Socs and greasers fighting around me in the lot.

Me and the Soc were screaming and swearing over the noise of the rumble, and I was swinging one fist blindly as I swiped the other hand across my forehead, trying to get rid of the blood. The Soc was half-standing, half-crouching over me, and I rolled on my side and yanked him forward over me, smacking him across the back of the head. I scrambled to my feet and was pulling my foot back to kick him when I saw Soda bolting across the lot, screaming "Ponyboy!" as he reached for a Soc and sent him sprawling to the ground beside Pony, who was limp on the ground, hunched on his side. I kind of gasped and turned to run to them, but the Soc had me by the foot and I was turning to try and kick him again when I heard Two-Bit screaming from the other side of the lot, "They're running, look at the dirty bastards run…!"

The Soc had let go of my foot and was running for the cars parked at the gate: all the Socs were running for their cars. Tim Shepard's gang and the Brumly guys were the only ones who'd seemed to really notice we'd won, them and Two-Bit: they had big grins on their faces as they jumped up and down and hollered with their fists in the air. But the rest of our gang weren't cheering with them. Ponyboy was still on the ground. Dally was kneeling over him, watching silently as the Socs' cars peeled out of the lot and down the street. Steve was lying on his back, his chest heaving, groaning loudly through his teeth, and Sodapop was kneeling at his head, talking to him softly. I sighed as I looked from our gang to Shepard's boys and the Brumly guys. "We won. We beat the Socs," I said, half to myself.

 _Why aren't I cheering with them? Why aren't any of us over there cheering with them?_

We weren't cheering as we said our goodbyes to the other greasers and started for our house again, either. Some of Shepard's gang were headed to some bar and asked us to come with them, but not even Two-Bit felt like going, so we just went on home in silence, the way we'd driven home that one day when Cherry had come to the lot. Me and Soda were carrying Steve between us, I had him by the legs and Soda had him by the arms. We were trying to keep him quiet as we made our way down the street: he was still groaning, sweat and blood dripping from his face. Two-Bit walked on ahead of us, one hand stuffed in his back pocket. I noticed he had a strip torn from his shirt and tied around the back of his hand. He turned around to look at Steve, and I saw that one whole side of his face was a mess of blood: I couldn't see any skin. He was looking sick as he stared at us.

"Two-Bit… what the hell happened to your face?" Soda asked very quietly, as we eased onto our porch, laying Steve gently on the top step as I reached to pull the door open.

"Socs." Two-Bit showed us the hand he'd wrapped in his his torn shirt. "And this…" He didn't finish. I could see the pain in his gray eyes as we lifted Steve to his feet and helped him to the sofa. I flicked on the kitchen light and that was when I realized Ponyboy wasn't with us. I stuck my head into the living room. "Soda?"

He and Two-Bit were crouched beside Steve. He looked up, annoyed, but his brown eyes shifted from annoyed to worried as I asked, "Where's Pony?"

"Dally ain't here either," Two-Bit said, glancing around the living room. He looked up at me, wiping blood out of one eye. "You think maybe they took off somewhere together…?"

"Where would they go?" Steve mumbled. Sodapop hushed him and looked over at Two-Bit. "They could've gone up to the hospital-"

"What's at the hospital?" I asked sharply. _The last thing we need right now is Ponyboy running off again... we don't even know if he's okay... and the Socs could be out..._

Soda was looking at me like he couldn't believe it. "Johnny," he answered. "Go and get the first-aid kit, we gotta fix them up," he added, jerking his head toward Steve and Two-Bit.

I hunted through the house for the first-aid kit, my mind racing. _Johnny, we'd forgotten about Johnny... did Ponyboy and Two-Bit even make it up to see him while the rest of us were working today?_ I snatched up the kit and carried it to the living room. Soda flung it open and started pulling things out of it: rolls of bandages, a tiny container of medical stitches, some tube of antiseptic cream. He spoke swiftly. "I'll take care of Steve, you stitch up Two-Bit. Make sure you put some of this stuff on him before stitches." He slapped the tube of antiseptic into my hand, grabbed a roll of bandages, and turned to Steve without another word.

I had to stare at him. Soda was so laidback and easygoing all the time, he never got so serious like this. The only time I'd ever seen him this way was that week when Pony and Johnny were in Windrixville. With a jolt I realized he was so much like Dad it was almost scary: he was laidback and easygoing, but when needed, he was there- albeit completely out of character -just like Dad had been.

Silently me and Sodapop fixed up the boys. We figured Steve had ended up with a few busted ribs, and there was really nothing we could have done- he didn't want to go up to the hospital, they would've seen us looking all beat up and they would've asked questions, and besides, there's not anything you can do about busted ribs except let them mend on their own, so Soda bandaged his side up tight to keep him still, and made him take a couple aspirin with a glass of water to ease the pain some. I gave Two-Bit some aspirin and water also, and the tube of antiseptic to put on his face and hand. As he gingerly squeezed some cream on his good hand I went to the window beside the armchair, pushing the curtains back and looking up and down the street a few times for Ponyboy. Nothing. I sighed and glanced behind me at the clock. It was close to nine o'clock, not too late, but I was still worried over my baby brother. I met Soda's eyes from across the room- he was trying to get Steve to go to sleep -and I knew he was worrying too.

By ten-thirty Pony still wasn't home. Steve was passed out on the sofa finally, one arm thrown over his face. Two-Bit had turned on the television, but he wasn't watching it: he kept rubbing the side of his face with his good hand where I'd had to stitch him up, and he'd finally laid down on the floor next to the sofa and gone to sleep. Soda had cleaned up all the first-aid stuff and was stretched out smoking a cigarette. I'd gone to the mirror in my room to check out the cut on my forehead and stick a Band-Aid on it. My eye was black. I dropped into the armchair with the newspaper and had just flipped to the sports pages when I heard the creaking of the screen door, and there was Ponyboy, looking sick and exhausted, blood dripping slowly from one side of his head. Steve and Two-Bit were awake at the sound of the door, and for a second we all just stared at Pony, and then I remembered how worried I'd been.

I jumped up, tossing the newspaper on the floor. "Where have you been?"

If he was annoyed, he was feeling too sick to show it. He looked up at me, and something in his eyes made me stop. _He looks... scared._ "Ponyboy, what's the matter…?"

He shuddered a little, looking from me to Sodapop, then at Steve and Two-Bit. "Johnny... he's dead… we told him… about beating the Socs… and- I don't know… he just died…"

 _No, no no no no no... Johnny, please not Johnny, damnit, no..._ Soda was fighting hard not to start bawling. Steve was lying on the sofa with his eyes shut, and I saw a tear sliding down his face, just one, but it was there. Two-Bit was sitting there with his eyes shut and his jaw tight. I looked slowly back at Ponyboy, who had started talking in a small, soft, shaking voice. "Dallas is gone, he ran out like the devil was after him… he's gonna blow up… he couldn't take it..."

Two-Bit spoke without opening his eyes. "So he finally broke… so even Dally has a breaking point."

Pony was shaking so bad. I looked quickly to Sodapop. "He's in shock," I said very quietly, not wanting to scare Pony anymore than he already was. Soda looked scared too, but he talked in a soft and steady voice as he said, "Ponyboy, you look sick, sit down-"

"I'm okay. I don't want to sit down."

I stepped once toward him, wanting to stroke his hair like that night at the hospital, or put an arm around him and help him to his room, like I'd done with Soda all that week he'd been in Windrixville, but he backed up quick, his back against the screen door. "Don't touch me."

I damn near bawled when he said that. I took a deep breath and nodded once. _He's not himself... he's tired and sick and upset..._

The telephone was ringing then. We were all quiet. I started to turn, then looked back at Ponyboy, then realized he didn't want me near him, and then turned and answered the phone. "Hello...?"

Dally sounded out of breath and scared out of his mind. "Superman? I'm- the fuzz, they're after me, I robbed a store and they're after me, you gotta come, I'll be at the lot here soon, man, you gotta come, you gotta help me, I'll be there in a minute, Johnny's dead and I-" The line went dead.

I wheeled around to face the boys, my heart thumping, my body starting to shake. "It was Dally, he phoned from a booth. He's just robbed a grocery store and the cops are after him, we gotta hide him. He'll be at the lot in a minute."

Steve pushed up off the sofa and ran out after us: I was surprised he could manage it with his busted ribs. We were all running as hard as we could up the street to the lot, me and Soda in front, Two-Bit and Ponyboy just behind us, and Steve unsteadily bringing up the rear, gasping and swearing through his teeth. Above the sounds of our heavy breathing and our running feet I could hear first one siren, then another, then shouts. We reached one side of the lot as Dallas reached the other, and he shouted something as he yanked what looked an awful lot like a gun out from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it dead at the cops, who were jumping out of their cars with their own guns aimed straight for him.

We came skidding to a stop beside the cop cars. Somebody screamed something, and a gun fired. I jumped in front of Soda and Pony, watching Dallas Winston's head whip back impossibly fast, the gun drop from his hand, his knees give out and his back crumple to the ground.

 _Damnit, not Dally... first that damn Soc, then Johnnycake, now Dally, what did we ever do to deserve all this?_ I looked back slowly at the rest of our gang: first Steve, who was sobbing as he watched the cops kneeling over Dally's dead body, and Sodapop, his brown eyes glazed with tears as he held Steve back by the shoulders, and Two-Bit, slowly rubbing his cheek as tears ran down his face, and Ponyboy, his whole body shaking and his eyes rolling back in his head as he swayed forward. _He's going to fall-_

"Glory, look at the kid!" one of the cops shouted. He didn't really sound all that concerned. Ponyboy was on the ground: he had passed out cold. I threw myself down beside him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up to rest against my chest. "Ponyboy, Pony! Can you hear me, Pony…? No, no please, please no, Pony…" My shoulders were shaking with the weight of everything that had happened that night, and even the gang kneeling close around me couldn't steady me. Tears started to roll down my cheeks, and I just sat there with Pony's head against my chest, right over my heart, rocking back and forth and crying my brother's name over and over. _He could be dead for all we know._ Sodapop was on his knees behind me, his forehead pressed against my shoulder, and he was bawling too, his tears soaking through my shirt sleeve. Steve was looking stricken as he looked from Dally's body to Ponyboy's body in my arms. Two-Bit had his head in his hands, tears dripping from between his fingers. I remembered him saying, " _So even Dally has a breaking point._ "

 _Yeah, Two-Bit,_ I thought, stroking one hand over Ponyboy's greased blonde hair. I could hear another siren, an ambulance siren, headed toward the lot: the fuzz must've called for one when Ponyboy had passed out. _We all have our breaking points._

Ponyboy was immediately rushed to the emergency ward when we got to the hospital. The paramedics only let Soda in the ambulance: there was only room for one other person, and when they'd told us this, Soda had turned to me, still sobbing, his eyes begging me to go with our baby brother, and I couldn't have denied him anything, not then. Steve and Two-Bit and I had sprinted home to get our truck, and I drove at top speed behind the ambulance all the way out to the hospital. We didn't talk. The boys said nothing about my breakdown in the lot. I didn't say anything to them about it either. What was there to say?

We'd just sat down on the same hospital bench where we'd sat last night to wait for news on Johnny and Dallas when a team of doctors and nurses went running down the hall past us, screaming at each other and waving clipboards around. They disappeared behind the double doors at the end of the hall, and the waiting area was silent. Steve sighed and stretched out along the bench, rubbing his side with one hand. Two-Bit was glaring at the floor, tears still slowly falling down his face. Soda leaned his head on my neck and I felt his tears on my collarbone. I heaved a long shuddering sigh and slid an arm tightly around him. We sat there that way for a long time. Two-Bit left the hospital around three in the morning.

"Where're you headed?" I asked through a yawn, glancing up at the clock and then down at Soda, who'd fallen asleep facedown in my lap.

He shrugged, sighing and rubbing his eyes with the back of his good hand. "Somewhere the hell away from this mess… I'll come by tomorrow. You think they'll let the kid out by then?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "Maybe… go home, Two-Bit, get some sleep. We'll see you around." I managed to grin a little at him, and he grinned through the tear tracks on his cheeks and left.

I sighed again and looked over at Steve, who was still sound asleep on the bench. _Sleeping isn't a bad idea,_ I thought, settling back against the wall and closing my eyes, but just then somebody was tapping my shoulder and saying in a low voice, "Mr. Curtis?"

I opened my eyes and looked up: one of the doctors from earlier was standing over me, holding a clipboard. "You're Ponyboy's older brother?"

 _Didn't he just call me "Mr. Curtis?"_ "How is he?"

"You're Ponyboy's older brother?"

"Yeah, I am. How is he?" I shook Soda's shoulder gently to get him up.

"He's doing well, given his current state… he's been running a fever for who knows how long, but we've got his temperature down to a hundred degrees now… he's in shock, and he's both physically and mentally exhausted… and to top it all off he's got a minor concussion, though we don't know how it happened, we assume he hit his head after falling. We can discharge him as early as Monday, provided you sign the consent forms releasing Ponyboy from hospital care. Do you understand all this?"

"Yeah," I said through a huge yawn. Gosh, but it was late, and I was tired and the hospital bench was cold and hard and uncomfortable, and my legs had fallen painfully asleep from Soda's head in my lap. The doctor smiled wryly, looking down at Soda sleeping in my lap and Steve sleeping next to me on the bench. "You three don't get home to bed soon, you're going to end up here in the hospital right beside your brother. Go on home and sleep, we're taking good care of your brother, and we'll call you if anything comes up, does that sound good?"

"Yeah… c'mon Soda, we're going home," I said softly, rubbing Soda's head with one hand and reaching over to shake Steve awake. The doctor saw Steve's bandaged side as he slowly sat up and frowned a little, but said nothing. Soda sat up, rubbing at his eyes, and mumbled sleepily, "How's Ponyboy?"

"Later," I murmured, squeezing his shoulder and turning back to the doctor. "Thanks for everything. We'll be in to see Ponyboy tomorrow… or today, I guess," I glanced up at the clock again and sighed deeply. The doctor nodded and patted my shoulder a second, then headed for the double doors again as we headed for the front door.

As we drove home I told Sodapop and Steve what the doctor had told me back at the hospital. Soda balled his fists in his lap when I told him about Pony's minor concussion. "It was that Soc, he kicked Pony in the head. I saw him do it."

I nodded slowly as we turned down our street. I glanced over at Soda and saw he was carefully avoiding looking out the window at the vacant lot. We pulled into our yard and got out. I watched Steve slide slowly out of the back seat. "Need help getting to the house?"

"No," he groaned, leaning against the truck for a second, his body shaking. I raised one eyebrow. He glared at me, then groaned again and nodded. I let him wrap the arm on his good side around my neck, and Soda steadied him from the back and we helped him up the porch and into the house.

"It's okay to hurt, Steve," Sodapop said very softly as we laid Steve on the sofa again. He looked real sad- not bawling -but sad. Steve threw his arm over his face.

"It's not my ribs that hurt," he snapped. "Damn it, ya'll, why did Dallas have to die? Why did Johnny? And that Soc too… what the hell do I care about some damn Soc… it was them who started all this mess, and if they'd left us alone, Johnny and Dally would still- still be…"

He lost it then, just started bawling harder than I'd ever seen even Sodapop cry. Soda slipped his arm behind Steve's head and let him lean on his shoulder, like I'd always done with him, and then he broke down too.

"Hey now, guys, don't cry… it's gonna be okay, it'll all be okay…" I sat down and tried to comfort them, putting a shaking hand on Soda's shoulder. "It'll be okay…"

 _But will it be okay? Pony back in the hospital, Johnny and Dally dead, and we've still got to go to that juvenile court... the juvenile court... oh God, no, we've forgot, they're not going to give us a hearing, not now, not after this, no... they're gonna take Pony and Soda away from me, maybe when Pony gets out of the hospital they'll take them away, they're going to a boys' home for sure now..._

I remembered that week when Pony and Johnny were in Windrixville: the looks Sodapop and Steve had had on their faces when they'd given up hope that they were coming home, Two-Bit's tears after he'd gotten jumped that day at the lot, even Dally showing the tiniest bit of feeling as his cold blue eyes watched our street. I remembered not wanting to give up that hope that Pony was okay and on his way home. I remember holding him in the hospital and bawling and thinking _We're gonna be okay._

 _Will we?_


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Sodapop and Steve fell asleep in the living room, Steve on the sofa, Soda close at his side, his head thrown back. I turned out the living room light and threw an old blanket over them and went out on the porch to sit for a while. It wasn't too cold out, and the sun would be coming out in a couple hours anyways. _Maybe I'll sit out here the rest of the night,_ I thought as I sat down on the porch steps.

 _It's just too much we shouldn't have to handle. Why do we get all the trouble? What did we ever do, what do we ever do, what will we ever do to deserve it all? A Soc dead, Pony and Johnny running away, Johnny and Dally dead, juvenile court... the state can take my brothers away from me without a hearing if they wanted to now…_

A sound at the gate made me raise my head. Two-Bit was coming through the yard toward me. He sat down next to me on the steps and was quiet for a minute before he sighed a little shakily and said, "Uh… so how- how's Soda doing?"

"Why're you over here, Two-Bit?" The nervous look in his eyes was making me a little wary. _Had he gone and blown up too?_

"Darry… don't get mad or anything… I- I knew Ponyboy wasn't feeling so well tonight when he went to fight… he'd told me earlier when we'd gone to see… see Johnny… but he didn't want me to say nothin' because he'd been wantin' to fight the Socs so bad… I'm so sorry, man, this is all my fault, all my fault…" His voice cracked and his head dropped between his knees as he started bawling, his whole body shaking and his sobs echoing on the porch. I slid close to him and put an arm across his shoulders, and he turned his head into my shoulder and his sobs grew muffled. _Golly, I'm doin' an awful lot of hugging lately..._ "Two-Bit," I sighed, "I ain't mad at you. It's my fault, not yours, I shouldn't have let Pony fight tonight… I knew he wasn't feeling too good and I told him he could come with us… it wasn't your fault."

I sat there with him on my shoulder for a while, just letting him bawl. He kept on saying "I'm sorry, it's all my fault," over and over, and I kept telling him it was okay, until finally he raised his head and mumbled, "Can I stay over here tonight?"

"Yeah, course you can. No matter what happens, Two-Bit, you and Steve'll always be welcome over at our house. No matter what, okay? C'mon, let's… let's head in, it's gettin' cold out." I helped him up and led him in the house. He sniffed and rubbed his jacket sleeve across his face. "You're gonna have to stay on the floor, here, let me get a blanket," I told him quietly, going into my room and pulling back the sheets and carrying them out to him. He nodded to me and flopped down and was out in about two seconds. I went down the hall to my own room and stood in the door for a minute, then turned and headed for Pony and Soda's room.

I laid down on top of the sheets and rolled on my stomach, pushing my face into Pony's pillow and breathing in deeply. _He's coming home soon,_ I told myself as my eyes closed and my shoulders relaxed. _He'll be coming home soon..._

Ponyboy wasn't awake when we drove out to the hospital Sunday afternoon. The nurse in his room said they'd had him on some drug for shock and it was making him exhausted. He'd only been awake once since we'd left the hospital, and even then he was only up for about five seconds, and then he passed out again. He looked so small and pale in that hospital bed, an IV dripping into his hand, his face still scratched and bruised from the rumble. Soda was sitting next to the bed, stroking Pony's blonde hair and sighing sadly. I stood at the foot of the bed with my hands shoved in my pockets, watching as Soda whispered, "Hang in there, Pony, just hang in there, we'll have you home soon…" He looked up at me. "He'll be coming home soon, right, Darry?"

I shrugged. "The doc said they could release him as early as Monday, Soda, I really don't know. As long as he needs to stay to get better again."

Soda was nodding slowly as he turned back to Ponyboy and continued stroking his hair. I was about to go and sit down with my brothers when a cop appeared in the doorway to the room. "Darrel Curtis?"

I recognized him as the cop from Friday night in the waiting area, the one who'd told me about the juvenile court. "Yessir?"

"I need to talk to you out here in the hall for a minute."

Soda looked scared. "What is it, Darry?"

I looked from him to the cop. "Whatever you've got to say to me, you can say to my brother here as well." _Sodapop needs to know if him and Ponyboy are going to be taken away and put in a boys' home. No more hiding our feelings from each other._

"Darrel, I'd rather that I talk to you somewhere else-"

"If this is about my brothers being taken away then they've got a right to know about it. I'm not leaving this room-" I broke off at the wild look in Sodapop's eyes, confused. _Hadn't he realized…?_

"Darry…?" His voice cracked as he said my name. "They- they're gonna- they want to take me away from you?" The tears were about to start. "Why… why didn't you tell me…?"

 _Because I thought you realized that,_ I wanted to tell him, but the tearful look on his face made me hold back. _I thought at the hospital that night you realized I didn't want us to get split up... I thought when Mom and Dad were killed you and Ponyboy realized there was always a chance we'd get split up..._ Soda was crying now, and I held out one arm and he ran into me, sobbing my name over and over. "Don't let them split us up, Darry, please, I wanna stay with you, I have to stay with you, please…"

I squeezed his shoulders tight. "I ain't gonna let them take you away, little buddy, they ain't gonna take you away." I glared at the cop over Soda's head. "What did you need to tell me…?"

"Ponyboy is expected to appear in court next Friday for his hearing. All charges against him and the Cade kid were dropped after news of his death, of course, but your brother is still expected to appear in court for running away from home, so the court can make their decision. Sodapop is expected to be with you as well, and if the court rules against you then him and Ponyboy will be taken from your custody the following Friday."

Soda was trembling against my chest. He lifted his head and cried, "Don't let them take me away, Darry, don't let them…"

"Soda. Don't worry, please, relax, they're not taking you away from me. I promise, Pepsi-Cola, promise you, just please relax."

Ponyboy's nurse came running into the room then: she must've heard Soda's bawling from down the hall. She motioned the cop out of the doorway. "My patient is sleeping, and I think his brothers here have been through quite enough the past couple days. I'm asking you to leave these boys alone now."

I maybe would've grinned if I'd not had a hysterical Soda falling into me bawling his eyes out and Pony still lying in the hospital bed across the room unconscious. The cop narrowed his eyes at me and left. The nurse sighed as she checked Pony's IV and smoothed his sheets with one hand. "He's been here all day waiting for ya'll to show up to see your brother so he could dump that on you. It's almost as if he wants your brothers to be taken away… I'll leave you alone for a while with Ponyboy… but I'm not sure he'll wake up any time soon," she added, slipping out of the room. I sighed and pushed Soda gently away. "C'mon Soda, we oughta go ahead and go home…"

"I'm stayin'," he muttered, sitting back down next to the hospital bed.

I glanced at the clock. It was close to five o'clock. "We're leavin' at five-thirty. I'm gonna… I'm gonna go find a doctor and see about signing the consent forms." I headed down the hall, not entirely sure of where I was going, and sat down on a bench and sank my head into my hands. Tears were running down my cheeks as I sat there with my head down and my face covered. _I still can't be there for Ponyboy, not like Sodapop can... I should be in there with my brothers, sitting with Soda, comforting him, waiting for Pony to wake up so we can tell him... tell him it's gonna be okay... and tell him... tell him that we... that I..._

"I love you, Pony," I whispered into my hands, still covering my face. _He knows that, doesn't he…?_

"Darry!" Soda came bolting down the hall, his eyes wide. "Ponyboy… he's talking in his sleep… come here, he keeps calling our names…! Come on!"

I jumped up and ran back to Ponyboy's room, Soda following close on my heels. Ponyboy had rolled on his side a little and was moaning something softly. Soda edged forward, pulling me with him to the side of the bed to hear.

"Mom…? Dad… Darry…? Soda…? Soda…?"

I was shaking at the sound of my name. I wanted to do something: lean over and grab his hand, stroke his hair like Soda had done, maybe say his name and just get him to open his eyes and say something to us, but Soda was holding me back.

"Soda… no… Soda, where… where's Mom… where's Dad… Johnny… Soda…?"

 _Why isn't he calling for me anymore?_ I thought, watching Soda sit on the edge of the bed next to our baby brother and start stroking his hair again. _Why doesn't he need me, why isn't he asking for me, why…?_ Soda was looking up at me sadly. "Darry… he's sleepin', he doesn't know what he's sayin', don't take it personal, please…"

"No… it's okay," I said with a choked breath. "It's okay." I turned slowly for the door as tears still rolled down my face. _Did I really expect everything to turn out okay? Ponyboy's always going to go to Sodapop, not me. Soda's always been there for him. How could one week change all of that?_

"Soda… is somebody… sick?"

I whirled around. Ponyboy was awake, his eyes glazed, staring at Soda, who was stroking his hair and watching him with a half-sad, half-relieved look. "Yeah. Go back to sleep now."

Pony wasn't looking my way. He was still staring at Soda. I couldn't stop the tears running down my cheeks. "Am… I sick?"

"Yeah, you're sick, now be quiet," Soda answered, still stroking his hair. He didn't look back at me.

"Is… is Darry… sorry I'm sick…?"

Now Soda looked back at me. I sobbed, leaning my forehead against the doorframe. I couldn't look at either of my brothers. Soda turned back to Ponyboy and said in a funny voice, "Yeah, he's sorry you're sick… now please shut up, will ya, honey? Go back to sleep…"

I watched as Ponyboy lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. Soda sat there with him for a little while, stroking his hair until he was sure Pony was sleeping, and then he got to his feet, looking a little unsure, and came toward me, holding out his arms. "Darry…"

"What?" I rubbed the tears away with the back of my hand and then shoved my hands deep down into my pockets.

"Darry… don't cry, please don't cry, please, Ponyboy loves you and needs you, please don't be sad, please, just… and I love you too and I don't want us to get separated and I… we're gonna be okay…"

He was still holding his arms out to me, begging me. "Right…?"

I sighed and stepped forward. He wrapped an arm across my back and pushed his face against my shoulder. "Love you, Darry…"

I sighed again. "Love you too, little buddy."

Ponyboy came home the next day, Monday, and both Sodapop and I took off work to stay with him in case he woke up again. Soda hardly left the room, just sat there holding Pony's hand or stroking his hair or even got into the bed beside him and went to sleep. Steve came over a few times to see Pony, but he never stayed long, just left quietly after talking to Soda for a little bit. I think he'd still been hurting from losing Johnny and Dally. He must've been really hurting bad to prefer staying at his place over ours. Two-Bit came over too, but he wasn't grinning and joking and goofing off like he usually was: everybody was looking and acting like they had that week Pony and Johnny had been in Windrixville. It hurt me to see us like that all over again, I'd thought everything was going to be okay when Ponyboy came home. But now Johnny was dead and Dally was dead and we were still facing juvenile court to see if the state was going to take my brothers away to some boys' home. I couldn't call that "okay."

I knew I'd have to start work again real soon: we had to pay off the hospital bills, and the rent, and all the bills, and there were groceries besides. But my paycheck just wasn't enough to cover it all, and Sodapop was set on staying at Ponyboy's side until he was awake, so I knew I'd have to wait until he was ready to go back to work. And I wanted to stay home with our baby brother as bad as he did, so we didn't say anything about going back to work.

I was sitting at the table in the kitchen Monday night, a pile of bills and a mug of cold coffee in front of me, when there was a knock at the door. I got up with a huge sigh, confused: it couldn't have been Steve or Two-Bit, they'd of just came in slamming the door. It was a nurse, the same nurse that had been in Pony's hospital room. She had on a coat over her scrubs and she was holding something small and wrapped in one hand.

She smiled a little and said, "Is Ponyboy awake yet?"

I shook my head silently.

"Well, that young man who died, his friend- Johnny? -had this book with him in his room, said that Ponyboy had given it to him. He wanted your brother to have it, he told me to give it to him but I'd forgotten until I was cleaning Johnny's room and found it, with a- with a note inside. Here." She handed me the thing in her hand. "Give it to him when he wakes up, okay?"

I nodded slowly, turning the book over and over in my hands. _Maybe it wouldn't be the best thing for him to see that note right away when he wakes up... he's already been in shock and he may not even remember that Johnny and Dally are gone..._ "Thank you. I'll make sure I get it to him… when he wakes up," I said, and she smiled again and left.

I sat down again at the table, setting the wrapped book on an empty chair. Soda came in and leaned heavily on the counter, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. "Pony's talkin' in his sleep again," he said, looking over at me.

"Yeah? What's he been sayin'?" I asked him, draining my mug and getting up to fill it again.

"Somethin' about not liking baloney. And he's been calling for Mom and Dad some more. And Johnny." Soda saw the book on the chair and pointed. "Where'd that come from?"

"That nurse from Pony's room at the hospital just came by with it… it's from Johnny." I saw Soda tense up, his eyes wide as he drew in a sharp breath, and immediately shut up: we didn't talk about anything that had happened in the last week. We didn't talk about it and Steve and Two-Bit didn't talk about it either.

Soda bit down on his lip and nodded once. "Oh," he said in a tight voice. "Okay." He went to the icebox and pulled out some chocolate cake and sat down across from me, leaning his head on one hand and picking at his cake with his fork. His shoulders were slumped forward and he kept yawning in between bites.

"Soda, when was the last time you got any sleep…?"

Soda grunted. "Why?" I just crossed my arms and stared him down. He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Yesterday afternoon I guess…"

"...In a bed…?"

"Fine, fine, I'll go lay down when I'm done eating, now lay off. Why you always worryin' over me and Pony anyways…?"

I grinned and reached over to mess up his hair. "Little buddy, worryin' over ya'll is what I do best. Now hurry up and eat and get to bed." I shook my head and turned back to the pile of bills. _Worrying over those two_ is _what I do best._

"No, no, let me help you with all this mess-"

" _Soda._ "

"Fine!" He stuck out his tongue and emptied his dishes into the sink. "'Night Darry," he called softly as he made his way down the hall to his and Pony's room.

"'Night," I called back, not looking up from the bills. I glanced at the clock: ten-thirty. I sipped at my coffee and glared at the table. _Why the hell am I worrying over bills when we're not even working to cover them right now…? Right now my baby brother's sick and Sodapop is exhausted and worrying his head off that we might get split up and they both need me more than they've ever needed me before, and I'm worrying over these bills when I should be in there with the two of them…!_

I heaved a sigh and glanced up at the clock again, then got up, rinsed my coffee mug, picked up the book, flipped off the kitchen light, went into the living room, grabbed the armchair, and half-carried it, half-dragged it down the hall to my brothers' room, moving it close to the side of the bed and dropping down into it, watching my brothers as I pulled a blanket over my lap. I tossed the book on the table next to the bed and settled back in the armchair. Soda had one arm draped lightly around Pony's shoulders, Pony's head on his chest, and for a second I wished hard that I could've been the one with my arm around Pony. _No, Ponyboy knows I love him, and Sodapop too, and just being in here with them is enough._ And then I dropped off.

I slept in until near ten the next morning. Soda wasn't in bed when I woke up, still in the armchair. I could hear somebody out in the kitchen, footsteps back and forth, dishes clattering in the sink and on the stove. I got up and stretched, stiff and sore from sleeping upright all night, and looked down at Ponyboy. He had rolled onto his stomach and had one arm thrown across his pillow. I shut the door softly behind me and headed to take a shower.

Sodapop had breakfast on the table when I came in. Two-Bit was on the sofa with the remote, looking for some cartoons. He nodded to me as I sat down at the table in front of a plate of eggs and ham. "Where's Steve at?"

"Work." Soda sighed and continued on washing dishes. "The boss told him one of us had to be at the garage, whether the other was or not… I know we can't afford any more days off, but I'd feel worse going to work knowing Ponyboy's not awake yet, you know…?"

I nodded. I was kind of feeling the same way. "S'okay, Soda. We'll go back to work when we're ready." I nudged him gently out of the way and finished up the dishes. He headed into the living room to sit down with Two-Bit.

The morning seemed awful slow. Two-Bit left to go to Buck Merril's place for a poker game. Soda wanted to drive down to the DX to visit Steve during his lunch hour, but he was yawning and rubbing his eyes and he finally passed out on the sofa, snoring lightly. I was sitting at the table with the pile of bills and my wallet, trying to sort through everything, but I kept getting distracted, glancing up at Soda and going quietly down the hall to check on Ponyboy. I finally gave up and slammed my hands down on the table and walked down the hall to Soda and Pony's room, leaning in the door and watching my baby brother with my arms folded. I hadn't heard Soda come in behind me.

"What's up, Darry?"

I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Takin' a break from all those bills. What're you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep anymore. Is there anything… anything you wanna talk to me about?"

 _Why does he always ask me that?_ I sighed and shrugged. _I thought I wasn't supposed to play "Superman" anymore, I thought we weren't supposed to hide our feelings from each other anymore._ "You really oughta be sleepin', Sodapop, go on back to bed."

"Well, I'm gonna shower first. Darry… are ya sure there's nothin' you wanna talk about…?"

"Damn it Soda! No! There isn't anything I…" I trailed off at the hurt look in his brown eyes. I sighed again and ran a hand through my hair. I sat down on the floor, my back leaning against the wall, burying my face in my hands. Soda sat next to me and rubbed my shoulder. I looked at him and knew I couldn't keep holding back anymore. "It's- I'm just worried, Soda. We've got the hospital bills to pay and the rent and all the other bills, and the groceries, and we can't go to work again until Ponyboy's better, and we don't know when that'll be right now, and now… with Johnny and Dally… and the whole juvenile court thing… we could- we… I just want it to end, Soda, I want it all to just end and everything to go back to how it used to be, how it used to be when Mom and Dad were- were here… I can't be a parent to you and Ponyboy, I'm not good at any of this, I'd never raised three boys and they had, I'm just afraid… afraid of messing up, of you two hating me, of I don't know…"

Sodapop was looking a little alarmed at my outburst. He slid closer to me and rested his head against my collarbone, looking down as he spoke. "We don't hate you, Darry, I don't and neither does Ponyboy… he knows you love him and he loves you back… you're doing fine raising us, and you'd do a better job than any damn boys' home the state wanted to put us in, and you said so yourself, don't worry about that juvenile court thing, they ain't gonna split us up… that girl Cherry said she'll testify in our favor, that the whole thing was the Socs' fault, and they can't split us up if it wasn't our fault… and-" he swallowed "-about Johnny and Dally… well… it'll just take some time, is all… like with Mom and Dad, it'll just take some time. I can work overtime until we pay off those hospital bills, and this month's rent too, and all those other bills, and everything… it's gonna be okay. You said so yourself. It's gonna be okay."

I grinned down at him affectionately and wrapped an arm around him, messing up his hair. "Thanks, little buddy. Means a lot. Now… get your butt in the shower and into bed, you look dead on your feet." We got to our feet and I nudged Soda toward the bathroom. "Go."

Soon the house was quiet except for the sound of Soda splashing in the shower. I sighed and headed down the hall to the kitchen table to finish off those bills, feeling better that I'd gotten everything off my chest, everything I'd been keeping from my brothers since Mom and Dad had been killed. _We're all better off when we know how everybody else is dealing with everything, that's how Sodapop and Ponyboy are so close, and that's how the three of us ought to be from now on. That's the way it's gonna be, now._

I heard the electric razor in the bathroom and rolled my eyes. _Is he stalling on purpose?_ I pushed the bathroom door open and saw him damn near falling asleep with the razor in one fist, held dangerously close to his neck. I yanked the razor out of his hand and set it on the sink and nudged him out of the bathroom. "Move it. Go in my room." He sighed and rolled his eyes and shuffled down the hall to my room, muttering something under his breath.

"Get some sleep," I called softly after him, and went into his and Ponyboy's room to sit in the armchair again.

I hadn't had any notion to go to sleep again, but as I sat there watching my baby brother sleeping on, I was starting to get a little tired myself. I knew Ponyboy was unaware that it was me for once sitting next to him, watching over him, me instead of Sodapop. It was the last thing I thought of just before my eyes closed and my head leaned sideways and I was asleep.

"Hey… Darry." Somebody had their hand on my leg and was pushing on my knee. "Hey Darry, wake up."

I shifted and opened my eyes to see Ponyboy half-sitting up in the bed, pulling his hand off my leg. _He's up, he's awake, thank God, he's gonna be okay..._ "Ponyboy, you okay?"

His eyes didn't have that animal-like look in them they'd had the night of the rumble. "Yeah. I think so."

 _He's okay._ I sighed and reached out and pushed back his tangled blonde hair. "Gosh kid, you had us scared to death." _Golly, he has no idea._

"What… what was the matter with me?" _Doesn't he remember anything…?_

I just shook my head at him. "I told you you were in no condition for a rumble… exhaustion, shock, minor concussion…" I remembered Two-Bit. "...and Two-Bit came blubberin' over here with some tale about how you were runnin' a fever before the rumble and how it was all his fault you were sick, he was pretty torn up that night." I sat there remembering Steve and Sodapop sobbing side by side, Two-Bit's tears on my shoulder. "We all were."

There was something in Pony's eyes as he sat there watching me and listening, like he'd finally caught on. I looked at him carefully, but he shook his head slightly and asked, "Where'd I get a concussion?... How long have I been asleep?"

I was feeling a little sick as I remembered Soda telling me what'd happened at the rumble as we'd drove home from the hospital. "You got a concussion from getting kicked in the head, Soda saw it. He landed all over that Soc, I've never seen him so mad," I added, remembering Soda throwing the Soc down on the ground. "I think he could've whipped anyone in the state he was in… today's Tuesday, and you've been asleep and delirious since Saturday night, don't you remember…?"

"No… no, Darry, I'm not ever going to be able to make up the school I've missed… and I've still got to go to court and talk to the police about Bob's getting killed, and now… with Dally… Darry… do you think they'll split us up…? Put me in a home or something…?"

 _Doesn't he realize Soda could get taken away too…?_ I didn't answer him right away. "I don't know, baby, I just don't know."

He was staring up at the ceiling and I was staring at him, all of a sudden feeling desperate to say out loud in front of him those words I'd been able to get out at the hospital: " _I love you, Pony."_ But I couldn't bring myself to do it for some reason, so I just asked, "Don't you even remember being in the hospital?"

Ponyboy shook his head. "I don't remember."

I was starting to wish I'd not said anything about the hospital right then. "You kept asking for me and Soda, sometimes for Mom and Dad too… but mostly for Soda."

Pony was looking sick. "Darry-"

"Johnny left you his copy of Gone with the Wind, told the nurse he wanted you to have it." It was a little better to talk about Johnny, but not much: I saw the pain in Pony's eyes as he glanced at the book on the table next to him, and then he looked back over at me and asked, "Where's Soda?"

 _Was that guilt in his eyes…?_ "Asleep, I hope. I thought he was gonna go to sleep shaving this morning and cut his throat. I had to push him to bed, but he was out like a light in a second."

As soon as I'd said it I heard the door to my room swing open, and a couple seconds later Sodapop came busting into the room, shouting "Hey Ponyboy!" and hurling himself at the bed.

I threw out an arm and held him back before he could squash Pony. "No rough stuff, little buddy." Pony wasn't in the greatest condition, and I figured Soda's energy was a little more than he could've handled right then, but Soda didn't seem to mind. He parked himself on the side of the bed and pounded Pony's shoulder. "Gosh, but you were sick… you feel okay now?"

"I'm okay, just a little hungry."

 _That's a good sign._ "I should think you would be, you wouldn't eat anything most of the time you were sick. How'd you like some mushroom soup?" I asked him, getting up out of the armchair and looking down at my brothers.

"Man, I'd like that just fine." I let out a small sigh of relief: he'd not eaten hardly anything since Saturday night, and he was still awfully skinny from the week he'd been in Windrixville.

"I'll go make some," I said, turning to go. "Sodapop, take it easy with him, okay?"

Soda glanced over at me with an _oh please_ look on his face. "You'd think I was going to challenge him to a track meet or something right off the bat…!"

I heard Ponyboy groaning as I headed into the kitchen. "...I guess this just about puts me out of every race, I won't be back in condition for the meets, and the coach was counting on me…" I had to grin in spite of myself as I pulled out the can of soup and a small pot: Pony was just the kind of kid who'd be worried over his _track coach_ after being as seriously sick as he was. I could hear him and Sodapop talking as I made the soup, and just as I was reaching for some bowls I heard Ponyboy say something that froze me in my place.

"Soda… did I ask for Darry while I was sick...?"

My hand dropped to my side. I moved the soup off the stove and then walked quietly into the hall. Soda was answering him. "Yeah, sure, you asked for him and me both, sometimes Mom and Dad… and for Johnny."

"Oh… I thought maybe I didn't ask for Darry, it was bugging me."

I closed my eyes and rubbed a shaking hand over my face. _He loves me._ I could hear Sodapop going on and I went back to get the soup. When I went into their room they were both passed out, looking like they always did when they were sleeping, Soda with one arm slung across Pony, Pony with his cheek against Soda's shoulder, the way they belonged to be. I set the soup down and crossed the hall to my own room, tears on my face for some reason. I rubbed them away and laid down on the bed and went to sleep.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Things went more or less back to how they usually went after Tuesday. I kept Ponyboy in bed for about a week, after making calls to the hospital and his school. I'd called my boss too, and asked him if it'd be okay if I worked half the week instead of all week. So me and Sodapop traded off going into work, so one of us would always be home with Ponyboy. Pony's doctor came over just about every afternoon to check in on him, and he would check in on me and Soda and Steve and Two-Bit too, asking us how we were doing, how work was going, assuring us that the juvenile court wasn't going to split us up. He was real nice and sincere about it all, but I knew Soda and Steve and Two-Bit were having a difficult time believing him.

The doctor was leaving Sunday afternoon when something crossed my mind as I stood in the kitchen starting supper. Soda was seeing him out the door when I called out, "Hey Doc, wait up a second," and followed him out onto the porch.

"Yes Darrel?"

I breathed in deeply and turned to face him. "What about- what about the funerals for our- our friends…? Johnny and Dallas… we'd like to- to, you know, do everything right, and I think they'd of liked to've been buried- next to our parents."

I heard Soda gasp from in the house, where he was standing at the screen door listening. He stepped out next to me and looked at the doctor, nodding. "They'd of- they'd of liked that," he said a little shakily. "Can we go ahead and do that?"

"I'm sure we'd be able to arrange it all, but I'm afraid the whole thing is left up to the state, boys… we might be able to arrange something for Mr. Cade, being a hospital patient when he died, but Mr. Winston-"

"Why not Dally, he was our buddy too!" Sodapop cried.

"I understand, Sodapop, I understand, but Mr. Winston- died -in the- custody -of the police, and they are held responsible for everything regarding his death, and- under the circumstances, I'm not sure the police-"

"Fine, okay," I snapped, pushing Soda toward the door. I felt sick and I didn't want to hear anymore. The doctor nodded once and headed for his car.

Soda was shaking his head and muttering something, tears dripping down his face as he sat down slowly on the sofa. "Why, Darry…? What- Dally was our- our buddy, Darry, it wasn't his fault… he didn't… he didn't…"

"Hey, hey Soda, no, please, _Soda_ , Pony'll hear you, calm down," I said urgently, starting to go over to him, but then I heard the sound of a car pulling up to the gate. "Stay here and calm down," I told him, stepping back out onto the porch to see who was here.

A red Corvair was parked at the gate, a Corvair I knew I'd seen once: I froze when I realized it was the Corvair that belonged to the Socs that had jumped Ponyboy at the lot. A guy maybe eighteen years old was getting out, coming slowly up to the porch. He was definitely a Soc. I had my guard up immediately: I stood straight, my shoulders squared and my chin high. The Soc stopped at the porch steps. "Ponyboy live here?"

"Yeah. What's it to you?" I kept my voice low, not wanting Soda to hear in case he came busting out of the house to beat up the Soc or something.

"I want to- I gotta talk to him for a minute, is he… is he awake yet…?"

 _Why the hell…_ "Uh… yeah, he's awake, why do you want to see him…?"

"Gotta talk to him," the Soc said again, still waiting at the porch steps. "I'm Randy, Randy Adderson," he went on. "I- I know your brother… I knew Bob… he was my buddy…"

He looked miserable for some reason. I sighed. "I guess you can come in and see him." I turned and headed into the house, shooting Soda a warning look as I heard Randy come in the house behind me. Randy kind of nodded at Soda and stood beside the door with his hands shoved down in his pockets, looking nervous as he glanced around our living room. I made my way down the hall and stuck my head into Pony and Soda's room. "Ponyboy."

He didn't look at me as he answered, "Yeah?" He had what looked like a yearbook in his lap.

"There's a guy here to see you, says he knows you," I told him, and he looked up at me then. "His name's Randy."

"Yeah, I know him."

"You want to see him?" I asked.

Pony shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

It was a yearbook he had in his lap, one of Soda's: it couldn't have been one of mine, I kept mine someplace under the bed in my room. I went back in the living room and motioned to Randy to tell him he could go on in. I sat down on the sofa next to Soda and we waited together.

Randy was asking Pony how he was feeling. "Cherry told me your name was on the school bulletin…"

I rolled my eyes as Pony said, "I'm okay… you can't really miss my name on any kind of bulletin."

Soda looked at me. "Darry."

"Yeah."

"What're we gonna do about- about burying Johnny and Dally…?"

I shook my head. Soda pushed my arm, his eyes widening. "Darry, we gotta do something, we gotta do something… we sure as hell ain't gonna let the state take care of it, they'd probably just burn their bodies or something, what are we gonna do, Darry, what're we gonna do…?"

"Damn, Soda, I- I don't know…!"

He was quiet, his eyes still wide. I could feel him shaking a little next to me. "Soda, listen to me, we'll figure out something, I promise, I swear to you, we just… we just gotta get through juvenile court first, okay?"

We froze as we heard Ponyboy's voice from down the hall, "...I killed him… I had a switchblade and I was scared they were going to beat me up…"

I got up and walked slowly down the hall. Randy was saying something, and then I heard Pony saying in a soft, shaky voice, "Johnny is not dead. Johnny is not dead."

 _Damn it._ "Hey Randy, I think you'd better go now," I said, looking in the door at the two of them. Ponyboy was smoking a cigarette, his eyes wide and scared. Randy was watching him with a strange look on his face, but he said, "Sure, see you around Pony," and got up to leave.

As he followed me down the hall, I looked back at him and said in a low voice, trying to keep Pony from hearing, "Don't ever see anything to him about Johnny. He's still pretty racked up mentally and emotionally, the doc said he'd get over it if we gave him time."

Randy shrugged a little and stepped onto the porch. I didn't wait to see him leave, just turned and headed back to Pony and Soda's room. "Ponyboy Curtis, put out that cigarette!" I told him, staring around and taking in the hugely untidy room. Of course it was always untidy, but now it had books all over the floor and dirty clothes piled next to the bed in addition to Pony's school stuff and Soda's junk lying everywhere.

"Okay, okay… I ain't gonna go to sleep smoking, Darry, if you make me stay in bed there ain't anywhere else I can smoke."

"You're not going to die if you don't get a smoke. But if that bed catches on fire you will- you couldn't make it to the door through that mess," I told him.

He had a look in his eyes not unlike the one Sodapop got when he was ready to tease me. "Well golly, I can't pick it up and Soda doesn't, so I guess that leaves you."

I just looked at him, relieved he was getting better, somewhat, even if he couldn't remember what had really happened with Johnny that night in the park. I didn't know what Pony saw on my face, because he said, "All right, all right, that don't leave you, maybe Soda'll straighten it up a little."

 _Doubt it._ "Maybe you can be a little neater, huh little buddy?"

His face went from teasing to surprise. "Sure… I'll be more careful."


End file.
